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sectumsempraaa · 8 days ago

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More Than a Gut Feeling

Pairing: soulmate!Theo Nott x fem!reader

Word count: 2.5k

Based on this request! :)

TW: none, just unlawful amounts of fluff

Featuring: Theo, Draco, Mattheo, Pansy, Lorenzo, Blaise

Summary: Transferring schools in your fifth year is overwhelming enough. But when you find yourself seemingly tethered to a Slytherin boy, you start to wonder… Did you come to Hogwarts by choice? Or did someone lead you here?

“And there was fog, and dust, and all I could see was this hand reaching out for me-”

“Bloody hell Theo, please, we get it. You smoked before bed and had trippy dreams,” Pansy complains, cutting him off from his hazy explanation. She turns to you and rolls her eyes, expressing her disdain.

It’s a typical Monday breakfast in the Great Hall for the Slytherin lads, except they have you now. They’ve recently (and graciously) taken you under their wing after you transferred schools in your fifth year.

Though you’re still adjusting to your surroundings at Hogwarts, your new friends have made the transition easier.

“I didn’t smoke before bed, bastardo,” he replies, lunging slightly towards her in annoyance.

Your eyes linger on Theo for a moment, his dream piquing your interest for some reason. There’s something about it that feels… familiar.

But you shake it off as deja vu in order to move past it. The last thing you want right now is to stand out amongst your new peers.

It’s only been a week since you arrived, but the connection you have with Theodore is unlike the others, and they are starting to notice.

Like when you first met, and the both of you were each holding a hardcover copy of your mutual favorite poetry book.

And a couple days later, when you turned your head to greet him as he was several yards behind you in the hallway, before he even called your name.

And yesterday, when you watched him win the first quidditch match you’d seen because the golden snitch hovered over you the entire time.

“I wish I could remember my dreams like that,” you respond, adding a touch of understanding to the conversation.

Theo’s head turns in the direction of your soft voice, like his gaze is attached to it somehow.

Blaise looks between the two of you, eyebrows raised in suspicion.

Suddenly and smoothly, Mattheo nudges you with his elbow and leans in close to your ear.

“If you dreamt of me, you would.” He smirks, laughing to himself and earning a light smack on the chest from Lorenzo. You notice Theo’s expression turn a smidge darker, something new looming in his eyes.

Lorenzo comments. “You really do ruin everything. You’re like, the king of ruining everything.”

Draco scoffs at Mattheo’s quip and places his hands on the table to signify that it’s time to leave for class. “Come on, Mattheo. Let’s not traumatize the new girl.”

Draco throws an apologetic glance your way.

“Please don’t listen to this child.” He spits out the last few words with haste.

When you look at Theo, you find him still staring at you with a hint of wonder and confusion.

You blush, feeling the crimson warmth spreading from one cheek to another. You reach down to grab your bag and make your way to potions class with the rest of the group.

—

Today’s lesson is, surprisingly, something you’ve already learned at your previous school. And thank the gods, because something about Theo’s dream has your attention caught like a fly in a web.

You imagine his vision, the fog and the reaching. You look down to your own hand, your brows furrowing as you continue to rack your brain. The longer you look at your hand, the more convinced you are that…

No. You just met him a week ago… there’s no way.

But that’s not it. It’s the other dreams he’s mentioned in the past few days, too. One where he’s at Durmstrang looking for someone, another where he’s trying to find them on the Hogwarts Express, but he doesn’t know who he’s following.

Who he’s looking for.

You can’t help but compare them to your own dreams, strikingly, eerily similar.

You recount images of them, scouring through empty train cabins and following the sound of alluring footsteps in your former school.

A tug on your ponytail pulls you out of your distraction, the slight pain guiding your stare. A sea of giggles spreads through the class as you watch Professor Snape’s hand return to his side.

“Miss Y/L/N, I suspect you were the potions teacher at Durmstrang with the way you ignore my curriculum.” Snape retorts, his stern voice closer than you were expecting.

But one particular laugh catches your ears, the corners of your mouth turning up at the sound of it. Your eyes land on Theo, and something about his expression makes your heart skip a beat.

“Tsk tsk, bella,” He whispers, and you bite your lip in response, turning back to your textbook as that damn blush creeps back onto your face.

There’s no denying how unfathomably handsome this man is when he smiles at you, because of you.

Your desk partner, Draco, looks to Theo and then back to you in bewilderment.

“I can never get him to joke around like that,” He says to you. “I’ll be damned if he fancies you more than me already.”

You smile back to Draco, returning the playful demeanor. “Oh, I bet he just adores you.” You respond loud enough so Theo can hear behind you.

You don’t have to turn around to see the bashful smirk on Theo’s face.

—

That night, you toss and turn more than usual. A wild dream keeps you trapped in slumber, unable to relinquish you from it until your roommate, Pansy, physically shakes you awake.

“I’m right here, you oaf!” Pansy yells, her hands squeezing your shoulders as you urgently sit up in bed.

“What? What are you doing? Why are you yelling?” You ask, genuinely lost. The beads of sweat trickle down your temple.

“You don’t remember just now when you were asking ‘Where are you?’ a thousand times in your own sleep?” She responds, her eyes widening with each word.

And then it hits you, the images of your dream. That laugh, a gentle breeze, and a-

“Paper crane?” Pansy asks, looking down into your lap with eyes like headlights.

You slowly look down, afraid to reveal to yourself what lays in your grasp. In your palm is a small, crumpled paper crane. Your baffled stare freaks her out, her hands retracting from your sides.

“What the filthy fuck is that?!” Pansy yells, but her voice sounds quite distant to you as you try desperately to get a hold on reality.

But you know. You know what this is, and you know how you got it. Accepting this fact is like swallowing glass.

“I brought something out of my dream,” you whisper, your breath picking up in pace and weight. The thought is sending you reeling, your brain suddenly racing yet devoid at the same time, unwilling to connect the dots.

“How is this even possible?” You ask yourself.

Pansy continues rambling on, asking you endless questions.

But you can’t seem to shake the idea that this item didn’t exist before you fell asleep last night.

—

After long deliberation, and a real pull back to reality, you manage to get yourself dressed and out the door. But the mental picture of this thing takes up most of the space in your mind that day, haunting you each time you think of it.

It’s not until Divination class, your last period, that things somehow become even more unsettling.

Professor Trelawney begins a lesson about the influence of dreams in real life and the messages they can send to the dreamer.

“Dreams, they can be so powerful. They can point you in specific directions, impact your decisions, make you see the truth.”

Her shakey, ominous voice echoes through your head, her words bouncing off the walls of your skull as you feel around in your pocket for the mysterious object. When you feel the edges of the paper graze your skin, you gently pull it out and place it on the corner of your desk.

From the table over, Theo absentmindedly observes you, your movement guiding his trailing eyes. He sees the object in front of you, but it takes him a second to register what it is, that curious little thing.

He squints, then performs a stunning double take. And when he’s finally able to identify it…

Everything changes.

“Oh… my… god…” Theo whispers, his heart dropping into his stomach like an anchor. His body goes into a state of utter disbelief and stillness. His eyes piercing white and his face ghostly pale as he struggles to grasp the scene in front of him.

Mattheo notices Theo’s knuckles white against the desk and chimes in to check on his friend.

“Mate, you alright? You look like Enzo after a Friday night at the Three–”

But before Mattheo can finish asking, Theo suddenly stands up and gains the attention of everyone in class by the sound of his bench skidding backwards on the floor.

Professor Trelawney’s gaze shifts from Theo to you as she locates the focus point of his unrelenting stare. She offers to take him to the infirmary as he looks “unwell.”

But Theo shakes his head, places his hand over his heart, and silently dashes out of the classroom.

Pansy’s head slowly turns to you with a look of complete perplexity.

“Better go check on Rome, new girl,” she mutters under her breath, referencing Theo’s hometown. She gestures her head in the direction of the door.

You nod hesitantly, soon following in his footsteps and ignoring any questions from your teacher.

—

When you make it to the hallway, you find Theo pacing back and forth, his hand still placed over his heart as if to stop it from exploding. But when he sees you, it only gets more difficult.

You open your mouth to speak, but he cuts you off before you can even inhale.

“Where in seven hells did you get that paper crane?!” He asks, stopping in his tracks. The conversation continues in bouts of interrupting each other.

“Theodore, I-”

“Don’t call me that, that’s not what you call me in-”

“In what?”

“In my-”

Then a pause. A tense, incredible pause. A stare down.

He continues. “Nothing, it’s mind numbingly mad,”

You take a step towards him, but something in your chest suddenly becomes achingly heavy. In response, you place a hand over your heart, just like Theo is.

In your free hand, you unfold your fingers to reveal the paper crane. His eyes land on it, the shock of it still trapping every fiber of his being.

“You…” you start, the weight in your chest transforms from a brick to a block of anvil with each word.

When you’re within arms length of each other, he manages to reach out, the struggle evident on his face. He fights to finish your sentence for you.

“Made this. Gave this… to you, last night.” He explains, his voice dragging as you notice his hand now gripping his shirt in a fist from the sheer pain in his chest.

“Theo… I think we aren’t dreaming of each other,” you suggest, taking time to breathe between thoughts. The weight on your heart is now seemingly unbearable.

“We’re dreaming with each other,” you say, and just as you finish the thought, Theo’s fingers touch the paper crane in your hand, a graze that feels like lightning.

And just then, as the object fuses the touch of two destined souls, a small clad of thunder emits from between you that only you two can hear. The pains in your chests implode, a knee-dropping sensation of light and warmth replacing it.

Like dynamite in your hearts.

“Bella,” Theo’s hoarse voice is laced with a sincerity that sounds like liquid gold to your ears. There’s no way to describe the feeling inside you right now, this fantastic blend of energies and desires.

The only thing you do know is that it’s burning at both ends, like a charring rope.

“I think… I was meant to find you, cara mia. Gods I sound mental,” he shakes his head, embarrassment written all over his face. To his surprise, he finds your hand gently caressing his cheek, guiding his gaze back to yours.

“Then maybe we both need to visit the infirmary, because I’ve only just arrived here and for some reason I can’t fathom a minute away from you.”

Relief washes over him as he drinks in your words, and the stunning sight of you confessing the very same sentiment he, too, harbors.

Your heart rate quickens as you feel an arm snake around your lower back, out of your line of sight. This feels strangely comfortable, like you’ve felt it for a lifetime already.

“Y/N…” he beckons, his forehead dropping to rest on yours. “I can’t ask you to be mine, because I think someone, or something, else already decided that.” He jokes, the huff from his laugh hitting your face.

The sight of both your smiles is what shifts everything into place. Everything, all at once. And then, your fists are the ones gripping his shirt, pulling his lips onto yours.

The paper crane falls to the ground between you as your lips move against each other, his hands exploring your back like they’re hunting for treasure. The magnitude of this kiss surpasses any other you’ve shared in the past.

Chills run up and down your body, like it’s finally found its home. Its match. His fingers grasp your hair lightly, keeping you in place as he kisses you with vigor.

He pulls away, looking at you like you’re his most prized possession.

“You’re more than a gut feeling, tesoro.” He confesses, earning another kiss from you. This one feels like an aftershock, the aftermath of the impact of your newfound, yet momentous intimacy.

You nod your head in understanding, barely able to form a coherent sentence at the moment.

“Did you… feel that, Theo?” You question, sending a glimmer of hope his way.

“Yes, like… fireworks?” He asks back. He takes your hand and places it on his chest once again, and you swear you could feel the butterflies erupting from inside.

Behind you, a mess of rushed footsteps make their entrance, accompanied by a couple of stern voices.

“These two, I swear…” Blaise complains, shaking his head and catching his breath.

“What in the Merlin-loving fuck is going on here?” Lorenzo sneers, his expression a mix of urgency and frustration.

But you two never broke that stare, that ruthless, solid stare. Instead you beam at each other as you scramble to put the answer into words.

“Fireworks.”

—

That night, you wander the grounds of Hogwarts together as Mattheo, Draco, and Pansy watch you from the Astronomy Tower. The three of them convene to discuss.

“You reckon she used a love potion?” Mattheo suggests, earning another smack on the arm.

“No, you bloody fool. They’re like, tethered or something.” She attempts to convey the notion to the boys, but they just don’t get it.

“Are we tethered then, doll?” Draco jokingly asks Pansy.

“In your dreams, mate.” Mattheo responds, taking a drag from his cigarette. She responds while picturing the paper crane she found in your lap that one fated morning last week.

“You’d be surprised how accurate that is.”

🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍

#slytherin boys #slytherin boys x reader #theodore nott #slytherin #theodore nott x reader #theo nott x reader #theo nott #theodore nott x you #theo fic #theo fluff #theo fanfic

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lqveharrington · 10 months ago

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Fake-Love | C.S.

summary: a boy was bothering you, so you and Coriolanus take it into your own hands.

pairing: university!coriolanus snow x fem!reader

includes: a very unstable, toxic relationship between the two, (arranged marriage), making out, comments toward the reader’s body, implied sex (it isn’t written), mentions of murder

a/n: soooo, as i write for the Silver Roses & Fallen Snow series, i decided to write a billion one-shot for our favorite blond to keep the era for him alive so i can finish my series 🫡. also, the uniforms are based of the gilmore girls’ one, since they are in university now and not academy.

The arranged marriage between the Snows and the Edevanes were always doomed to happen. You were born the same year as Coriolanus, and your families were already close with each other.

It was just, you and Coriolanus despised one another.

The feeling was 100% mutual. The reasoning for such a feud was due to the never ending fight for the brightest student in the Capitol. During your years in Academy, it was a tie in every class. Of course, your hatred for one another was more tame.

It only really changed when Coriolanus came back from serving the Districts as a peacekeeper. There was something about his demeanor that was much different, plus the way he was built could have made you weak in the knees.

He joined University a little after it had started for your class, but that didn’t stop him from becoming the best. You were currently the top of your class in University, but that changed when he joined under Dr. Gaul. His jabs to your reputation were much stronger than in Academy. He would make comments about you when walking down the hall behind you, making sure you understood that he would do whatever it took to be back on top.

So, when your parents dropped the bomb on you that you were to be engaged to Coriolanus as soon as possible, your blood boiled at the male. You could not believe he stooped that low to get back at you.

And about a few weeks after the initial announcement, you and Coriolanus officially got engaged, becoming the sudden talk of the Capitol.

“How did you keep your dating life such a huge secret?” A reporter stuck their microphone up to your face as you and Coriolanus exited a car together.

“Well, we were just so love struck with one another that we didn’t want others to know.” Coriolanus smiled, answering the question for you.

His arm was looped around yours as you were guided into the University, answering all the questions being asked of you both. The moment you stepped inside the school grounds you let go of the male, dusting off your uniform’s plaid skirt.

“What time do your classes end?” He muttered toward you, adjusting his own uniform.

“I have study hall all day, I’ll be done whenever you are.” You state as you head for the library, ignoring the icy stare your fiancé was giving you.

Since Coriolanus studied under Dr. Gaul, you knew you would have to stay a lot longer in the University’s library than usual, but you did not necessarily care. You had textbook assignments due, and it was an opportunity to get everything done.

That was the goal until a first year at the University started bothering you.

“I told you, I’m busy.” You stand from your seat, furrowing your brows at the young male. “If you’ll excuse me, I have to go find a book for my psychology lessons.”

“Aw, don’t be lame.” He inched toward you, grabbing your wrist. “Why don’t we have our own fun instead? I’m sure you’re just as beautiful underneath your skirt.”

Your eyes harden at his words and mess with your engagement ring, “You‘ll have to excuse me, I have to be somewhere.”

Swiftly, you weave through the different shelves full of books. You swore under your breath when you hear the footsteps of the male behind you, sharply turning into a more secluded space. To your surprise, you found Coriolanus pulling books from the Hunger Games previous years.

“What are you doing in here?” You question, quickly moving around to his left. “I thought Dr. Gaul needed you today?”

“She wanted me to understand the history of the previous games to help with the programming and DNA of new animals.” He mumbled, looking through a thick book from the first Hunger Games. “What are you doing?”

“This guy was hitting on me.” You shrug, meeting Coriolanus’ darkened eyes. “What?”

“What guy?” He placed the books down on a cart, grabbing your chin.

You bite the inside of your cheek, “I don’t know his name, but he’s a first year here. Why do you care so much?”

“Because, gorgeous, you’re my fiancée. Any guy who even looks your way that isn’t me is dead.” He backed you into the shelf, hand still tight on your chin. “Did he saying anything or touch you?”

“Yes.” You whisper, gaze dropping to his lips before back up to his darkened blue eyes. “He grabbed my wrist and said that ‘I’m probably just as beautiful underneath my skirt’.”

Coriolanus took his other hand and firmly placed it on your hip, eyes wandering your face. “I’ll kill him.”

You turn your head to the side as you heard footsteps nearing before Coriolanus slammed his lips onto yours, pulling your body close to his. You wrap your arms around his neck, deepening the kiss without a care in the world.

“Mm, Coryo—“ You part, feeling your skirt hike up. “Are you insane?”

“Maybe.” He chuckles, shutting you up with a harder kiss, slipping his tongue through your parted mouth.

Coriolanus changes his hold on you, both hands now on your waist. You shift your hips, earning a quiet groan from the male. He retaliates by tracing a hand up to your throat, slightly squeezing it which earned a moan coming from you.

“Oh, so you’re just a whore.” The male scoffed from the front of the aisle, looking at the couple.

“Kill him?” You ask between kisses, tugging at his tie. Truly, you didn’t know he would take that request to heart as the male soon was deemed missing a day later. But for now, you were caught up in the heat.

Coriolanus grins, leaving one last kiss to your swollen lips. “He talks to my soon to be wife like that, it’ll be worse than a quick kill.”

read more about coriolanus snow here !!

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dropsnectar · 2 months ago

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Fawning Rose: Vine Monster x GN!Reader

The Adventures of an Elven Herbalist Part One

NSFW or NSFT

This is my first time writing anything in 6 years so keep that in mind. Also my first smut fic. Or monster fic. I literally learned about the sexual parts of plants for this fic. Don't know how I got here but this was fun! btw if you don't like oviposition, I marked the parts with three !!! before and after that scene, so you can skip it if you want.

WORD COUNT: 3167, or 7 pages on Docs

It had been a long journey from your home country, having to cross an entire sea to get to the sleepy elven town of Hairevick. An Herbalist, you could craft pills to treat a human flu, create a poultice for a dwarves sore, work-tired limbs; even brew potions to help a beastmen ease out of a mating season-- but it was still lonely. Their were no elves about, except for the rogue eccentric nomad.

Feeling as you had fully mastered your craft in that area, and curious about your kind, you set forth in hopes of bettering yourself. However, when introducing yourself to your neighbors, you found everyone to be polite, but detached. As far as elves went, you were quite young, and the people of Hairevick were elder and not so trusting of outsiders. But worse of all, everyone here seemed to have an excellent knowledge of the local flora and fauna, and their uses in maintaining health. There was no need for an herbalist, especially one so unfamiliar with their lands.

You spent the entire week mourning your state over glasses and pints of botanical alcohol-- The local tavern drinks were amazing!-- until you finally met a sympathetic face.

He had long silver hair and the wisp of a ginger beard around his sharp jaw; a peculiar trait. He greeted you friendly enough, asking how you were settling in. It turned out that he owned a store in town, selling odds and ends. He even had a little apothecary in the corner, where those who couldn’t be bothered to make a forest run would buy herbs and tinctures.

Starved for companionship, you bombarded him with questions about clients, and local herbalism. He was jovial, and after quite a few dregs of honey yarrow grog, offered you a book on the local flora. After some midnight bonding over stories of patients, he gave you a proposition.

He was having some issues procuring some materials from a special plant, a Fawning Rose. It had incredible healing properties, but a bad habit of uprooting itself and fleeing from anyone who wasn’t a youth. If you could lure it out and bring back anything, be it petals, roots, greens, he would pay you handsomely. Maybe even give you some lessons on how to work with local plant life.

It was for this reason that you found yourself two days into a trip to the heart of the Haire Wilds bordering town. It was not going well.

***

The cool air caressed your skin as you entered the grove. You had caught a peculiar sweet smell, somehow floral and buttery at the same time, and had followed it with hope filling your heart. The scent had gotten so thick you could taste it, strong as a tea on your tongue. Blue wildflowers covered the ground, interrupted by the common tree route or vine.

Your eyes followed the vines or small roots, colored a sage with a speckled gradient to midnight blue. They traveled up into the middle of the grove. Sunlight, so rare this far into the Wilds, fell down in large delicious specks from the trees. They refracted off a large flower, almost two yards in width. Its petals were raspberry pink, turning blood red in the middle. Vines from its base led upwards and rested on the low boughs of the nearest trees, framing the flower and its various young buds like some sort of ethereal art study.

You grew excited, feet tripping over roots as you ran forward, losing a shoe. You lost balance again and landed face first into the crook of a particularly large vine and hit your head. Hard.

Hot pain crashed through you, making you curse as you steadied yourself. You tried to get up but the heat struck your temple like lightning as you moved upwards. Alright. Best to stay down then.

As you waited, you were able to see past the stars in your eyes and notice a slight powdery substance on the vines. It, too, was pink.

Maybe it was the thrill of finally finding the damn thing, or the head injury, but you felt different. You could hear your heart pumping hard in your chest, pleasantly tight. Your breath was ragged, the air pushing a hard, chilling heat through you.

Like a particularly good run, your mind registered. A high.

Your limbs started to tingle at the tips.

The rose’s perfume felt more like a mist now. You were only a few feet away from the base flower, and the scent had turned heady. Your hunger from a missed meal seemed to be surfacing, goaded on by the delectable smell the plant was giving off. While the pain eased and the stars disappeared from your eyes, you noticed that the lightheaded fuzzy feeling stayed.

Uh oh. Not a concussion.

You had to work hard to bring the fear into your mind. There was very little anyone could do to help you out here. The best you could do was not move around too much, and hoped the Fawning Rose would cooperate.

Suddenly, you notice some movement from the roots under your palms.

No no no not now! Please, I haven’t harvested you yet! You thought as you tried to scramble up.

The roots moved upwards with you, shoving you onto your side. Sliding around your feet, one took your other shoe with it as it slithered about under you. Another seemed to upend itself and squeeze cooly between your toes. You jumped a bit, but your gaze and mind were slow.

Something thick gilded itself on your shoulder making you look up. Vines, three, four, five of them descended and started rubbing themselves against you like cats. The movement was kicking up clouds of the pink pollen, making you sneeze as you wiggled against the plants outer limbs.

A part of you was horrified, thinking that perhaps you had scared the thing off. After all, you had been warned that this type of rose was particularly skittish. But the plant did not seem to be gathering itself to run away, rather it was pulling you closer to itself, the dragging tearing at the underside of your clothes.

Try as you might, you couldn't seem to think. Foggy, fuzzy, your mind was like cotton. The tingling in your fingertips has spread through your body, and an embarrassed part of your brain noticed your lower body was starting to awaken too. A warmth was beginning to pool in your gut, slow and lazy. Tingly. Fuzzy, like your head.

The vines continue to rub against your body, tearing the rest of your clothes away until only skin remains. They were relentless, cool against your hot skin. Their outer layers were textured but still smooth; a foreign sensation but extremely exciting. It felt almost like something was licking you, the powder giving a wet feel as it spread itself all over. Liquid heat glazed the innermost parts of you, much to your embarrassment.

Aphrodisiac. You finally registered. You started to curse out that damned store keeper.

You’d been played.

You were now at the base of the flower, with even more roots and vines cradling and moving over your body. You were… pushed? Pulled? A foot into the air, close enough so that some of the smaller buds were leaning over you, as if they were getting a good look at you. You felt a knowing, a presence from this plant now. It really was looking at you.

Some desperate part of your mind, far far back in your mind, tries to set off danger bells. That you needed to get up and run.

Ooze started to secrete from the smaller buds, and the already overpowering scent of floral butteriness seemed to multiply. It dripped out onto your belly, warm and tingling, then your chest, your inner thigh, even a bit on your cheek.

The syrup dribbled down into the planes of your mouth as you wriggled under the vines. A particularly mischievous one pushes through the plush cheeks of your ass and moves up, poking at your entrance, causing you to gasp.

The liquid touches your tongue. It tastes just as it smells, deliriously delicious. Sweet. Hot. It was divine compared to the little rations you’ve been eating the last few days. Like youd been starving and had sudden.ly been given free reign of a pastry shoppe. But no pastry could top this silky butteriness

What little heat that had kindled inside you was now a roaring flame, putting your past arousal to shame. You groan, and pull your head up, sticking your tongue out for more. A part of you is screaming to stop and run, but it is a stupid part that is buried instantly under your sudden overwhelming need. You are desperately horny, and you deserve to feel good after all the trouble you've been through lately.

Still sticking out your tongue, you start to moan even louder as the vine messages your entrance with its thick girth. At the same time, one of the buds above your face seems to notice your desperation, and leans down to your lips.You lick at its plush petals and sweet sweet nectar seeps into your mouth. It tastes much like a floral pastry and you suck greedily as it pushes itself deeper in.

The petals are so soft, yet still firm in your mouth as a river of nectar floods your throat. You giggled around it as it started to take its full effect. You felt light as air, so good.

The vines had moved over to allow a bud to circle itself around your most sensitive part. You gasped out as it started to suck you, making stars flood your already glistening eyes. Your wet lashes fluttered as it began to suck wave after wave of pleasure out of your body.You had never felt so good, you noted somewhere in your sex drunk mind. The whole time, the bud leaked nectar, completely soaking all parts of your groin.

The nectar left your skin feeling sensitive, and completely soaked. This seemed to please the vines, which continued to massage the oil about you, then finally push in. You cried out at the sensation. Drool started to pool out of your mouth, mixing with the nectar.

The vines rubbed lazy curving lines around your walls, making your hips jerk and shake. They seemed to know what they were doing as they started out slow for a time, then sped up their pace, thrashing about inside you. You clench around them, overwhelmed by the unyielding sensation. The pooling heat in you was building high, and you could tell the walls were about to break.

A rogue, mischievous bud had decided to examine your hole, tracing around your entrance in lazy circles. The petals were so soft, softer than skin. The texture made you feel desperate. As if to read your mind, the bud stopped. It must have been blooming because you felt little feelers, probably stamans, tracing about your genitals, wet with its lovely, delicious pollen.

You swore and whined and pleaded for more as the vines fucked you through it, voice garbled by nectar. Another, thicker vine veined in indigo added itself to its companions and you finally came. The rush was like being tossed in the ocean, a shock that completely enveloped your entire body in cold, pulsing ecstasy. Eyes rolling into the back of your head, your juices spilled down on the forest floor below.

The echoes of the waves of pleasure were still rocking through you when the vines surrounded your body started to move you upwards again. The vines were slow and delicate as they handled you, as if you were precious cargo. You were brought upwards, almost as if they were about to set you on your feet. Your neck was out, as you were still suckling the addicting flower liquid.

You noticed through your long damp hair that you were positioned just over the center of the Fawning Roses main flower. A drop of nectar slipped out from inside you and dribbled down and onto the flower's green pistil. The stigma was thick, with four fat lumps at the top. The stamen surrounding it swayed, almost as if there was a breeze. Their magenta anthers rained down more pollen, causing a beautiful gradient against the deep red at the middle of the large petals. It was a truly breathtaking sight.

A single vine wiggled towards your face and pushed back your hair. You found the gesture almost sweet, leaning into its touch. You remained like that for a time, before the vines started to lower you on to the stigma.

No no no, you tried to whisper, some understanding dawning; but the bud was being aggressive with its feeding, pushing further in your mouth. It had a job, and its job was to make you so desperately horny and stupid, you’d let this flower breed you.

The stigma was a hard fit at first. Its lumpy texture felt so good rubbing against you, you couldn’t help but hump back into it. The vines around you squeezing your skin, tilting your hips this way in that, trying to make the fit. The surrounding stamen started to rub their anthers against you, two started focusing on your nipples. You continued to hump the stigma, smearing the nectars from your groin all over it. Then, finally, finally, You were able to squeeze it in.

The vines had taken over the humping for you now, pushing you down harder and harder onto the pistil. The lumps dragged against your walls in such a beautiful way, that you screamed out babbling whines. Your skin was covered in nectar and bright pink pollen. Every part of you was being squeezed, rubbed, oozed upon with tingling liquid, that you weren’t even sure you had a body anymore, just pleasure. After you came for the fourth time, you started to feel a pulsing within the pistil. It was like the thing seemed to grow within you.

! ! !

Ridges started to squeeze against your entrance, rubbing against your walls. They moved up, up, up, into the deepest parts of you. There was a sudden burst of warmth, then something small and squishy. You marveled at the texture, as the flower continued to lower you down on the pistil, now at a slower pace, in smaller movements. You ached so badly, but the new sensation of the objects and warmth inside you made you wanna keen louder. They felt sort of like eggs.

Seedpods. You registered lazily. You were being turned into a seedbed.

This realization only seemed to turn you on even more. They felt so good, rolling about inside your walls. The warmth they brought rivaled the cool temperature of the pistil, a delightful duality.

You moaned with every bulge, push, then pop of warmth and heaviness. It was getting to the point now where the vines were pulling you up off the pistil to make more room for the seeds.

! ! !

You were cumming so much now you lost count. It was getting to the point that you were just continuously orgasming, as the seeds and the pistil dragged against your most sensitive parts.

You may have been like that for hours, days even, the nectar kept you so dizzy you couldn’t tell time. But at some point you were so full that the pistil seemed satisfied. The wriggling stamen around you stilled, and the vines carefully lifted you off the pistil, giving one last drag within your walls.

The bloom inside your mouth slowly dragged itself out, making you whine in protest. The vines carefully laid you down at the foot of their roots, arranging your body in a comfortable position. The vines slowly retreated from your body. They lazily moved about, sometimes knocking into each other in a way that was almost comical. Their movements seemed lazy, almost like it too was spent.

As the last vine left your skin, it caressed your cheek. Within you some affection of your own seemed to bloom. The haze that was in your mind was starting to dull, and replaced itself with the need to rest. Your heavy eyes closed and you gave into sleep.

***

You awoke without opening your eyes. You could feel that the curving mound of roots you’d been sleeping on had been replaced with fluffy grass and soil. The smell of freshly tilled earth flooded your nose, and you jolted upright, eyes wide.

The grove was quiet, and empty of the Fawning Rose. All that was left behind was you, the upturned soil it had left behind, and light dusting of pink pollen on the trees. Even the sweet pastry-like smell had left the grove.

You looked down at your naked, sore body and groaned. You could see a trail of bruises from where the vines had gripped you, along with dried out nectar and tons of pink pollen. Your stomach puffed out a bit more than normal, meaning all of this had NOT been a dream. Much to your surprise, nothing hurt though. Your body felt great, healthily spent like you had just run a marathon. Considering how hard you had been working there should have been some pain, but there wasn’t. Just the pleasant pressure of the seedpods against your insides.You recall the conversation with the shop owner at the tavern. Looks like this is the flower's healing abilities at work.

You continued to search around the grove. Your clothes were still in shreds on the forest floor, but your bag was safely tucked under one of the trees the flower had rested its vines in. With some effort, you managed to get yourself off the ground to pick it up, waddling the whole way.

The pollen was still working its magic on you, but you guessed you had been exposed to it long enough to build a slight tolerance. Or maybe the growing rage within you was doing the trick. You pulled out one of the many glass bottles, and a silver knife. You went to work, scraping the dried nectar and pollen off your body, into the jars.

I’m gonna charge that asshole so much money, his kids will be poor. You seethed as you spent hours getting your money's worth off of every plane of your body. You’d have to birth those seed pods later too. Your insides grew warm at the thought.

You tried not to think about how you were going to have to walk home naked, where you’d been and what you’d been doing laid bare upon your skin. It’d be free advertising tho, you tried to reason.

You'd make a killing. Aphrodisiacs were rare, and extremely expensive, especially to a crowd of immortals. I think I'll sell these seed pods on my own though. You smiled.

You’d make sure to be properly prepared the next time you went into the wilds.

Might do a part two, maybe with slimes next time? Also sorry about any switching of tenses, I have a hard time with that! Hope you guys enjoyed!

#monster x reader #monster fucker #monster lover #monster #vines #tentacles #monster x gn reader #teratophillia #terat0philliac #tentacle smut #vine smut #monster smut #ovipositor

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pellucid-constellations · 10 months ago

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Last updated October 1st, 2024

Drabble masterlist here <3

⁂ Azriel ⁂

→ Multi-Part Series/Oneshots

∙ Of Oblivious Minds (Part I)

You're positive Azriel is in love with Elain. It seems so obvious. But Cassian is laughing at you and suddenly nothing makes quite so much sense anymore.

Part II, Part III, Part IV

∙ If It All Fell (Series Masterlist)

If it all fell apart—if you forgot who you were—would you love him again? Would the bond guide you back? Azriel doesn't know if that uncertainty is one he can bear.

∙ Compliments to the Line Cook

Azriel never goes for any of the girls on staff. Cassian can't figure out why—and it's pissing him off. (Modern AU, Line Cook!Azriel)

∙ Favoritism Azriel always seems to be working. Well, not always. Sometimes he's on the phone outside the restaurant with a massive smile on his face. (Modern AU, Line Cook!Azriel) ∙ Lessons in Care Azriel loves you so much. Even though you can't cook. You're trying though. (Modern AU, Line Cook!Azriel) ∙ Colds and Retold Confessions Azriel would never be one to not take care of his girl when she's sick. That doesn't mean he won't make her blush. (Modern AU, Line Cook!Azriel)

∙ Trial and Error (Part I)

Based on the request: "Azriel with single mom reader? I feel like being a single mom in ACOTAR would be tricky as hell… reader comes from autumn court and flees to night court because she got pregnant out of marriage? 😯 the shame"

Part II, Part III, Part IV, Part V -> Part V Bonus, Part VI

∙ If You Cared to Ask

Azriel hasn't been listening. You got hurt. Sometimes, an argument can't be boiled down to just one instance.

Part II

→ Standalone Oneshots

∙ Only in Dreams

In his dreams, Azriel recounts how he got to his mate.

∙ Reversal

When protecting your mate brings out a side you swore to keep hidden, you have to deal with the consequences.

∙ Set in Stone

The Court of Nightmares is an evil place. Secret agendas, forced marriages, malicious intent; there’s nothing good or pure. But then Azriel finds you.

∙All Over Again

You're drunk. Your mate is trying to get you home. Only problem is—you're really, really drunk.

∙ By the Book

Azriel is struggling to catch the attention of his mate. Cassian offers him some advice, but "putting the moves on you" is harder than it seems, especially since he's not a character in one of Nesta's novels.

∙ To Feel At Home

Winnowing out from Under the Mountain, you know you need to find him—it doesn't seem real, to feel so at home.

∙ A Promise

As war inches closer on the horizon, Azriel reminds you of a promise you made to him—one you aren't sure you can keep.

⁂ Cassian ⁂

∙ R&R

Cassian was tired and you were taking forever to get your ass back home.

∙ The Construct of Loyalty

After months of "disobedience," your father calls upon Cassian to be your personal guard. That leaves Cassian, a soldier in the Night Court army, your childhood friend, and a man deeply in love with you, to protect you from all fronts—including the arranged marriage you were born into.

#azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel acotar #azriel shadowsinger #acotar fanfiction #masterlist

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candy-rat · 10 months ago

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☀️ˏˋ°•*⁀➷✧Puppy Love✧

♡ Percy Jackson x Fem!Apollo Reader

♥︎ Summary: you attempt to teach the cute boy you may or may not have some feelings for how to better work a bow and arrow. || Percy blurb!

☆ Warnings: None!

(ofc i know the relations between Apollo, Zeus, And Poseidon but the readers relation w Percy and the reader is the same w him and annabeth so use that info as u must)

★ A/N: I’ve only ever read the first and a bit of the second book + the two movies so this is based off the new series(Walker Scobell) + plus I have the BIGGEST crush on Walker Scobell.

♪ Credits: Ty Bunny’s RPH for the divider<3

+Barely Proof read

It was another sunny day at Camp Half-Blood, kids either chasing each other around or actually putting effort to train and what nots.

Surprisingly the archery field was as empty as ever, which is why you find yourself here.

As the daughter of Apollo you tend to neglect your gift of archery rather finding yourself in simple socialization, but today you thought differently.

Your dad would be proud, wouldn’t he?

As you were in the middle of your archery session you swore you heard the sound of bushes rustling.

The sudden noise caused you to turn around, trying to identify where the noise was coming from.

You were met with the sight of a boy.

Not just any boy.

Percy Jackson.

With earlier memory you can recollect, the boy was definitely not the best with a bow and arrow, so why would he be here?

“Uh, hi” the boy spoke up.

“Oh uh, hi?” You responded in a confused yet optimistic tone.

There was an awkward silence for a moment.

You’ve seen the boy on multiple other occasions, you never really talked to him before.

To be honest with yourself, you probably had the slightest crush on the boy.

The tiniest one of course, you barely knew him.

“So, do you need something? Or?” you spoke, breaking the silence.

“Oh! Uh yeah I did, yeah.” He replied with a slight crack in his voice.

Another moment of silence.

“Uhm, what do you need, uh Percy was it?” You questioned.

You didn’t need to ask, of course you knew his name.

It’s not creepy, word just gets around you know?

“Yeah uh that- that’s my name, you’re (Name) right? Daughter of Apollo?” He asked.

“Oh yeah, that’s me.” You replied.

“You’re like really good at archery right?” He asked once more.

“You could say that, being the daughter of Apollo kinda you know comes with it, but my older siblings are definitely better.” You confirmed.

“Well I was uh wondering-“ he responded.

“Mhm?” You simply hummed in reply.

“If you could, i don’t know uh teach me how to get better at archery?” He finally let out.

You looked at your bow and back at Percy.

You wonder exactly why he asked you.

Maybe he just came here in hopes to ask the first person he sees, or maybe he was looking for you specifically.

That’s a nice thought.

“Really?! Okay, I don’t mind!”you replied.

“You don’t?!” He replied.

“Of course not! I don’t have much to do anyway.” You giggled.

Before anything you told him the basics, how to stand, how to correct your breathing, and how to aim better.

The day went on.

Percy missed the target completely most times.

But once he finally got remotely close, you had to say you were proud of the blonde.

You were happy to even spend time with him.

“There you go Percy! That was great, you’re getting better!” You chuckled, swinging you arm over his shoulder squeezing him a bit.

He froze at the sudden contact for a moment.

“Thanks! I really c-couldn’t have done it without you, you know!” He went on blushing.

“Awe don’t sweat it, it comes naturally so I never need to put much in to it, but thanks!” You thanked the boy, feeling your face heat up.

Percy handed you the bow back queuing the end of your lesson.

“You know if you ever want me to teach you again I’d be happy to, just swing by cabin 7 I’m usually there.” You mentioned.

“Yeah sure, but about that-“ he started.

“About what?”

“Well uh, seeing each other again you know? Like not during training” He blushed.

“O-oh! Yeah i wouldn’t mind at all, I enjoy your company!” You responded.

“Really?!” Percy added.

“Yeah really.” You confirmed.

“I uh- like being around you too.” Percy smiled.

The two of you got along perfectly.

Like a puzzle piece.

You definitely had a crush on him.

He might like you back.

Percy definitely is too scared to confess anytime soon.

And maybe that’s good.

Love takes time.

Especially puppy love.

A/n: innocent puppy love is deff the vibe I’ll always go for with my Percy fics so hopefully I’ll have time to do more (Miles 42 fic in the making!!!!)<3

#percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians #pjo #pjo series #percy jackson x reader #pjo x reader #percy jackson and the olympians x reader #walker scobell #Walker Scobell<3 #Writer #writers on tumblr #x reader #fanfic #x reader fanfiction

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ssparksflyy · 6 months ago

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what's he got that i don't? 𝜗𝜚 ⊹ ‧₊˚

pairing percy jackson x fem!reader summary based off this request!! an i actually love this request sm 😋 in jealous percy we trust

PERCY sighed dramatically as he plopped himself down on his bed, scooting up to put his head in your lap. he'd just gotten back from a meeting with chiron about helping out with teaching new campers how to handle swords and was quite frankly, exhausted. he'd spent his whole day running around, going from lesson to lesson, already helping out with all sorts of things. he hadn't seen you since breakfast and desperately needed to feel you close after his hectic day. walking into his cabin to see you sitting in his bed reading made him feel like maybe the gods didn't hate him and they knew how to answer his prayers after all.

"long day?" you asked, moving one of your hands down to his hair and ran your fingers through it while the other continued to hold up your book.

"mhm" he hummed in response.

"what'd you do?" you followed up.

"teach, teach some more, help out, then go teach again" he said, "i didn't even ask to be a teacher."

"you didn't ask for a lot of things, just another thing to add to the list babe. im sure the kids who need help greatly appreciate you and your teaching"

"i guess"

you sat in silence for a minute, continuing to play with percy's hair and read. he would've been fine staying like that and maybe even wouldve ended up falling asleep in your lap, but he had hardly spent any time with you today. he wanted to talk to you more and kiss your lips and hug you, but your nose was stuck in that stupid book he didn't even understand.

"whatcha reading?" he asked and lifted his head up, moving it to rest his chin on your stomach.

"the hunger games" you replied.

he mumbled a quick 'okay' and kept his head on your stomach, looking up at you and watching as you read.

as much as percy loved quiet moments like this, it was the opposite of what he wanted. he knew you enjoyed reading, and now was one of the few opportunities you got to read in peace, but he hadn't seen you in hours and (even though he wouldnt admit it) was in desperate need for your attention. when he saw you smile at something in your book, he decided to try for a conversation again.

"whatcha smilin' at?"

you looked away from your book, "nothin. just this guy."

he got up and furrowed his brow, "what guy?"

"he's not real, percy."

"don't matter, what guy is making my girl smile like that?"

you rolled your eyes, "a guy made of ink and imaginations. that's who."

"lemme see" he said, holding out his hand for you to hand him the book.

you handed him the book and watched as he squinted his eyes, trying to read it.

"i can't read."

"i know."

"what's it say?"

he handed you the book back, ""i don’t think it’s going to work out. winning . . . won’t help in my case," says peeta. "why ever not?" says caesar, mystified. peeta blushes beet red and stammers out. "because . . .because . . . she came here with me.""

percy pauses for a second. "you were smiling at that? what does it even mean?"

"see! you dont get it, it's nothing." you said, trying to brush it off.

"mmm i think its something" he said. he already had your attention away from reading your book, now it was just a matter of keeping it up.

"you wanna know? fine." you huffed, "im smiling because i remember when i read this for the first time and i was freaking out because katniss and peeta hardly even talk in this part of the book, and he just reveals that he's got a crush on her, but you don't know that he's actually faking it - but at the same time he's not - because it's set in katniss' perspective, so you're left all 'what was that?! what does he mean!!!' and it becomes something that peeta does again later cause he's smart and knows what cards to play in order for people to like him!!"

he looked at you in surprise, "oh- wow, sorry." he apologized, taking your hands in his, "so is peeta your favorite character?"

you knew you could just give him a simple yes and be over with the whole thing, but if he wanted the truth, then the truth is what he would get.

"yea, he really is. he's just the perfect guy" you said smugly, opening your book back up and pretending to start reading again.

"pfff- yea right! what happened to imaginations and ink?" he said. you could hear the slightest bit of jealousy in his voice and decided to keep going.

"doesnt take away the fact that he's perfect" you said as a mattter-of-factly.

"oh yea? well i think he's a fake nobody."

"fake nobody or not, he's still really smart, strong, an artist, a great baker, handsome in the movies-"

"josh hutcherson is not handsome."

"im gonna act like you didn't just say that." you said, realizing this was going the way you wanted it to, "but gods, did i mention how good of a boyfriend he is? i mean the way he cared for katniss?? hes literally everything a girl could ask fo-"

"hey you know im your boyfriend, not him, right?" percy asked, his tone sounding unsure and annoyed.

you stopped there and put your book down. you didn't think he'd actually be bothered by you talking about a fictional guy. he was never really the jealous type, had he actually taken it seriously?

"perce... are you.. jealous?" you asked in disbelief.

he gave you an offended look that you could tell was fake, "what?! no! course not! why would i be jealous of some fake baker dude??"

you couldnt help but laugh as he continued to try and defend himself from your 'wild' and 'indecorous' 'accusations'.

"i wasnt accusing you of anything! just asking!!" you said through your fit of giggles.

"yea you were! i feel very attacked right now, i though this was supposed to be a safe space!!" you only laughed more.

once you managed to get yourself to stop laughing, you moved closer to percy and pressed a kiss on his cheek. "i was just joking, you know that right?"

he mumbled a quick 'yea' while moving over to your side so he could put his arm around you and pull you into his chest. he left a kiss ontop of your head as you got comfortable in his embrace, putting your book on his nightstand.

percy had gotten his chance to talk to you, and now was able to hold you close, just like he wanted. yes it took listening to you ramble about some other (fake) guy, but who cares!! before finally closing his eyes and falling under hypnos' spell, he only had one more question about the book you were reading.

"by the way, who's finnick odair?"

"OHMYGOD, SO-"

#percy was in the wrong okay bye !!#percy jackson #pjo #percy jackson x reader #pjo x reader #percy jackson x you #by bells ♡⋆ ࣪.#seaweed brain ⋅˚₊‧𓇼

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surielstea · 6 months ago

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Bejeweled Daggers

Based on this request.

Pairing: Azriel x Bimbo!FemReader

Summary: Reader struggles to find her place in the Inner Circle, Az comforts her.

Warnings: Amren’s a bitch but it’s canon | angst (not inflicted by Az) | Hurt/Comfort

3.8k words

I pad into my mate's study with a wild grin on my face, holding my minidress tight to my body as I approach the male who was peacefully reading.

"The others will be here any minute," I croon and Azriel's eyes drag from the page of his book to me, raking up my figure, the strapless dress putting the expanse of my neck and collar bone on display. "Can you tie me?" I whirl around and as a reply he grips the strings of my corset and then pulls tight, knowing exactly how much I hated it when it was too loose.

"I haven't seen this dress," He muttered as he tied the strings into bows. I turn my head to look at him.

"Cause I bought a new one, duh," I roll my eyes. "I should've guessed," He smiled softly and once he was done with my corset I spun back around.

"You like it? The clerk said it looked like it was made for me when I tried it on," I flash him a toothy grin and he returns it with a smirk.

"It's very pretty, but we talked about length," He hums and I groan, slinging my arms around his neck.

"C'mon Azzie, everyone knows I'm yours," I sing, kissing up the column of his throat, he swallows thickly in control.

"Cassian needs a reminder," The shadow singer grumbled beneath his breath and I giggled, rising onto the tips of my toes and pecking his lips, which he returned chastely.

"You're so cute," I say and he smiles down at me.

"Likewise, love," He inclines and presses a kiss to my temple, then pecks all over my face until he finally finds my lips.

I sling my arms around the back of his neck and lean closer, pulling him into me as my chest presses against his.

I smile against the feel of his lips sealed over mine, the familiarity and warmth of it making me grin like a madwoman. He pulled back with a sloppy smirk and I giggled at the blush tinging his cheeks, reaching forward and wiping the lipgloss off his bottom lip. "If you ruined my makeup I'm gonna kill you," I threaten and he shakes his head.

"It's just lipgloss," He shrugs innocently, clearly guilty of messing it up.

"It's expensive, I can't reapply it every five seconds because you want to kiss me," I reason and he frowns.

"I'll buy you all the lipgloss you want," He hums. "Just let me kiss you," He sighed, his hands roaming from my waist down to the curve of my ass, gripping it in his large hands. I squeal at his sudden urge and pull him closer, pressing a soft kiss to his neck.

"Now you're all glittery," I murmur, pulling away and wiping at his neck.

"Everything you touch turns to glitter," He says and I scowl up at him. "In a good way, my love," He smiles down at me but before my grin can return he adds, "Except that one time you bedazzled truth-teller, don't ever do that again," He said, his voice cold but my mischievous giggle cut right through it.

"It was so funny when you had to torture that guy with a sparkly knife," I murmur past my laugh and he glares at me.

"It took me weeks to get that shit off, I'm still finding sequins on it," He sighed and I only continue to cackle, entirely forgetting that Cassian and I had done that when Azriel foolishly left the sacred knife out on the counter.

"I was trying to teach you a lesson," I roll my eyes.

"Yeah? What lesson is that?" He looks down at me pointedly and I smile like a maniac.

"Not to leave sharp objects out," I shrug.

"You're right, I should've known two fully grown five hundred-year-olds would put glitter on my knife," He grumbled.

"Or, children, I'm just saying don't make a habit out of putting weapons in low places," I add, wrapping my arms around his torso, propping my chin up on his chest as I stare up at him. He looks at me with slight shock. This is the first time I had ever expressed wanting a child before, to say he was stunned as well as relieved was an understatement.

A knock at the front door makes his shoulders tense and I beam, rising onto my toes and pecking his lips before slipping from his grasp and leaving the office.

When I opened the door I was met with a wide-grinned Cassian and a thoroughly annoyed Nesta. My smile matches the Illyrian’s and I open the door wider for them to come in. "You guys are early," I croon.

"Cassian insisted on it," Nesta huffs, shucking off her jacket and hanging it on the hook

"Oh don't act like you don't want to be here," I beam wildly at her. "Or are you still pissed I missed training?" I sigh dramatically.

"For the third time in a row? Yes," She nodded, making her way to the dining table where a charcuterie board sat lined with cheeses and crackers, she opted for a grape, popping it into her mouth with a contemplative look on her face.

"I don't understand, if Azriel shows up to help train what are you doing at home?" She grumbled but before I could reply Azriel's arm slithers around my waist.

"She insists on getting her beauty rest," Azriel excuses and I smile wickedly.

"It's not my fault I'm tired after you keep me up all night," I tease and Nesta's cheeks flush pink, making me giggle. "I'll come to the next training I promise, I'm sure Cassian will have my head if I don't," I say, looking to the warrior who was currently stuffing his mouth full of cheese and crackers, not paying any mind to the three of us.

The knock at the door makes my grin falter slightly but Azriel was quick to answer it.

I had always been the closest with Nesta out of everyone in the inner circle. Feyre was kind and Rhys was charming, but they all kind of looked at me as if I was only some ditzy girl. Which, granted, wasn't far off but they belittled me and took pity on Azriel for being stuck with a girl like me as a mate. Nesta saw the way they looked at me and knew how it felt to be undermined.

Azriel had reassured me a multitude of times that I was the only one for him, that I was a Carynthian warrior far greater than a pretty face. "Deep breaths," Nesta mumbles as Amren, Rhysand, and Feyre with Nyx in her arms file into the house. I bump her lightly with my shoulder and she returns it playfully.

I greeted the guests with a bright smile on my face, and Nyx was particularly pleased to see me. "Hi, little lord," I say as I take the two-year-old from Feyre's arms, propping him on my hip.

"Auntie I missed you," He clings to my side, nuzzling his face into my shoulder and I giggle.

“I think Uncle Az and I are watching you soon," I say and he cheers with a wide smile, that smile is one of the reasons I wanted a kid in the first place. If baby fever was a person, it'd take the form of Nyx.

The inner circle had come over to talk strategy on how to get each court to sign Rhysand's new peace treaty, humans included. Apparently, they've been working on this since the war with Hybern, the entire thing managing to fly under my radar.

Everyone was in the sitting room, staring at a large map of Prythian sprawled out on the coffee table along with dates and schedules scribbled along the borders of it. I had tuned out most of what they were saying, using confusing language and names of people whom I did not know made me lose interest and grow frustrated with my lack of comprehension.

I stuffed my face into Azriel's neck defeated, my legs sprawled over his lap as he traced with the hem of my skirt.

"You tired, baby?" He murmurs quietly and I shake my head no with a huff. "What's wrong, hm?" He nudges the side of my face with his nose and I slowly lift from the crook of his shoulder to look at him.

"I'm just confused, I don't know this stuff," I sigh, toying with my hands anxiously. His fingers intertwine with my fidgeting ones, calming me. I hated not understanding, it put me on edge. Being raised in the hewn city without a clue of what the real world was supposed to look like would do that to you.

"I'll walk you through it later tonight okay?" He tilts his head and I nod with creased brows. His other hand comes to my jaw, scarred thumb brushing over my cheek reassuringly. "Don't worry so much, I'll explain whatever you want alright?" He stresses and I reply with a dip of my head, then lean on his shoulder again.

I place soft pecks on his neck throughout the rest of the meeting, ignoring the others and focusing on my mate, and him alone. After a few more minutes of just dwelling there, attempting to tune out their words I begin to wear out and know better than to distract Azriel with my boredom.

I swing my legs off of Azriel's lap and stand with quiet movements. Azriel looked up at me curiously, hand linking with mine, silently asking where I was going.

"I think you're right, I'm just tired," I whisper and he hesitates, then inevitably nods— but before I can leave his grasp he pulls me closer, quietly demanding a kiss with a dramatic pucker of his lips. I roll my eyes at his dramatics but lean down nonetheless and chastely plant a kiss on his mouth.

"I'll see you in the morning, alright?" I murmur against his lips and he nods with a soft smile. I mirror it and he allows me to leave his hold. "Night Nes," I pat her shoulder and she looks up at me tiredly.

"I better see you at training tomorrow," She warns and I wave her off with a flick of my hand.

"We'll see," I tease as I travel down the hall.

I tried to sleep but it hadn't come. Truthfully I wasn't tired, I just wanted to get away from the stares of the others. I could still feel their eyes on me. Defiling and obvious like they weren't trying to hide their dislike for me.

I run a bath, eager to wash that feeling of their eyes on me off. I tie my hair up and add soaps and oils to the water, running my hand under it until it gets hot before stripping down and stepping into the basin that was slowly filling. A shiver runs down my spine at the sudden change of temperature, my body tensing at first then muscles relaxing into the water. I sigh in slight relief and lean onto the back of the tub, pearlescent bubbles slowly beading along the surface of the water in a pastel pink shade.

I smile and gather a pile of foam in my hands, lightly blowing air into them and creating a larger bubble. I smile but the expression drops when I hear a loud shout over the sound of the running water. I crease my brows when I recognize the voice as Azriel’s.

Quickly I turn off the faucet and allow the room to go silent. Azriel never shouted, so I was confused as to what all the ruckus was about.

“You have no right to speak of her like that,” My mate claims on the other side of the wall and my back straightens at the coldness in his voice. He was beyond angry.

“I’m just saying, she doesn’t really belong with the rest of us,” Amren’s unmistakable voice made the water around me suddenly feel cold.

“What the hel is wrong with you?” Nesta spews.

“She's my mate, I don’t give a fuck if you think she belongs or not,” Azriel claims, and my eyes widen, my hands coming up to my mouth. They were talking about me. Quickly I move closer to the wall, hovering beside it to get better audibility. Was it eavesdropping if it was me they were discussing?

“Amren you promised you wouldn’t do this,” A voice sighed so quietly I couldn’t make out who it was.

“You talked about this before you came?” Nesta rages, her voice louder as if she was standing now.

“She’s a Carynthian, most of you can’t even claim that title yet you’re so quick to underestimate her,” Cassian’s defending voice was close, like he was leaning against the connecting wall between me and the sitting room.

“I’m only stating the truth, what does she bring to the table?” Amren continued and I could practically feel Azriel’s bloodlust seeping through the walls, the lights of the bathroom flickered and I realized he was draining the light, his shadows absorbing any existing brightness.

“Get out of my fucking house,” Azriel seethes and offers no other words to the eldest of the group and I imagine she stormed off because the next thing I hear is the front door slamming shut.

There's a moment of shared silence, but no words come before the same door opens and shuts again.

There were muttering and sighs in the next room over but there were no words I was capable of making out. I could tell by the tone as well as the femininity that it was Nesta speaking, I could only assume Cassian stuck around with her as well and was proven correct when I heard the familiar warmth of his voice a moment later.

It wasn’t long before they left as well. Leaving the house silent and the lights dim.

I couldn’t help but let the tears slip from my eyes, I felt pathetic for silently crying over Amren’s lone opinion but it hurt. The inner circle knew Azriel better than anyone, if they truly thought I didn’t bring anything forward then perhaps I wasn’t the one for Azriel, maybe the cauldron managed to get it wrong, even if I loved him more than anything.

“Love?” The soft knock at the door makes me startle, quickly wipe away my tears as I move away from the wall I had my ear pressed to.

“Come in,” My voice cracks but I pray he didn’t recognize it. The door creaks, shadows come in first, then him. I smile at him softly and he mirrors it.

“I thought you were going to bed?” He asks and I shrug.

“Couldn’t sleep,” I murmur and he comes closer, grabbing the stool from my vanity and pulling it to the rim of the tub, placing himself on it and I find myself amused at the view of the intimidating Shadow Singer on my fluffy pink stool.

“You hear all that?” He creases his brows. I give a dip of my head with a small frown pulling at my lips. “Don’t let it get to you, alright?” He stresses and I nod again while muttering, “I know.”

He sighs, his expression softening as I avoid his gaze and continue to admire the pastel bubbles that made the room smell like peaches. “Come over here, I’ll wash your hair,” He offers and I flick my eyes up to him with a small look of hesitance, he nods reassuringly and I do as he says, turning around and backing myself against his side of the tub.

He tilted my head back before pouring warm water down my locks, running his hands through it smoothly with the gentlest of detangles when he found a knot near the ends. After my hair was successfully wet he lathered it in my most luxurious shampoo. I cared deeply about my appearance, it took a lot of time to look as pretty as I did, but at this moment I hadn’t felt any of it, just dejection and a sense of exclusion.

Shadows dipped into the water and then sprung from the surface in playful loops, noticing my low spirits and attempting to cheer me up. I smile and reach my hand out towards the darkness, to which the strands swirl up my forearm excitedly. Azriel rinses the soap from my hair before moving onto the conditioner. “Do you want to talk about it?” I tilt my head back, catching a glimpse of him from my peripherals.

“There’s nothing to talk about, I know I love you and that’s all that matters” He replies and a frown pulls at my lips. “Unless you want to talk?” His hands freeze their massage on my scalp. “I’m fine,” Lie. “I don’t need comfort, and I don’t need to be protected,” I murmured. “But I appreciate you defending me,” I turn my hand to the side to look at him with a weak smirk.

“I can tell when you’re lying, love,” He intones and I flush looking back down to the suds in the water.

“Okay so maybe what Amren said got to me,” I huff. “She was right,” I confess.

“She wasn’t,” Azriel’s tone was unwavering with no hesitance. There was no swaying him.

“Azriel, think about it. What do I bring to the table?” I ask as he washes the conditioner from my hair.

“You made all the food, and set up the whole meeting,” He explains and I roll my eyes.

“You would’ve had the meeting with or without the food, the fact that’s the only thing you can come up with shows just how pathetic I am,” I spell out and his expression hardens before he says, “You didn’t let me finish.”

I look at him longingly, then let out a sigh, hinting that he can continue. “Don’t worry about what you bring to a war meeting, it’s not your scene and that’s okay,” He murmurs, gathering a fluffy towel for me as I step out of the warm bath.

“But it’s your scene,” I argue as he wraps the warmed towel around me, his hands patting down my body until I am dry.

“I love that we’re different, you’re a breath of fresh air from all of that, like sunlight in a cell,” He smiled, scarred hands coming up to cup my cheeks. I never forgot Azriel’s background, how torturous his half-brothers were, his father locking him up in that cell like he was some kind of animal. “We’re cauldron fated, made for each other aren’t we?” He points out.

“My parents are mates and my father used my mother until she died,” I state. “You don’t have to like each other, you’re just paired on offspring,” I shrug and a soft smile pulls at the corners of his lips.

“But I do love you and that won’t ever change, isn’t that enough?” He asks and I look up at him, into those familiar eyes that always managed to read me like an open book.

“I don’t want to come between you and your friends,” I whisper.

“You’re not, Amren’s always going to have her issues until you risk your life or save someone else’s, she’s just like that,” He shrugs.

“Okay,” A shiver runs down my spine from the cold of the room against my dripping hair.

He notices and guides me out of the bathing chamber into our bedroom. He walks me to the armoire where he collects my softest nightgown and a pair of undergarments.

Silently he helps me get dressed, his touches tender and reassuring as he slips the cotton underwear up my thighs then pulls my baby pink nightgown over my head.

I walk over to my nightstand and brush through my damp hair a few times before slipping into the bed with a tired yawn.

Azriel climbed in next to me after stripping until he was half-naked. His arm wraps around my waist and he pulls me right into him, my hands press against his bare chest and he smiles down at me. “Feel better?” He mumbles and I nod with a smile, it was the truth. I was coming across the realization that it didn’t quite matter if I thought I belonged or not, because I knew I loved Azriel, and I knew no one could rip me away from him even if they tried.

“I love you too, by the way,” I whisper and he presses a kiss to my forehead before a smirk stretches over his lips.

“I know,” He murmurs.

I look up at him with a beaming grin, then scoot up only an inch to press my lips onto his, my hand coming up to his cheek as I bare my soul onto his with the action, so innocent yet so powerful, like an electric charge between us, a current of both devotion and admiration that was outmatched against anything I had ever felt before, and the sensation returned every time his lips were on mine.

“Go to sleep love, you have to get some rest because I think Nesta might take down that door if you don’t show up to training tomorrow,” He hums and I groan, remembering I had to stay true to my word. “Valkyrie forced to do Valkyrie training, a true travesty,” He mumbled into my neck, dipping his head down into it.

“Shut up, Azzie,” I pout, wrapping my arms around the back of his neck and pulling him into my breasts to silence him.

“Yes ma’am,” He mumbles dreamily and I giggle, loosening my arms so he can look up at me. I pinch my lower lip between my teeth as I brush his hair back, admiring his sharp features. I run my thumb down the bridge of his nose, then trace beneath his lips that I never got sick of kissing.

“We could sleep, or we could find a better use of our time?” I suggest.

“I’m not fucking you senseless then forcing you to go to training tomorrow, you’d be too sore,” He shakes his head.

“Then don’t fuck me senseless?” I suggest.

“You know I’m incapable,” He replies and I crack a smile because I know he’s right. He pushes up and chastely pecks my lips.

“After training tomorrow we will, you always look your best in those tight leathers anyways,” He smiles, his hand coming to my upper thigh, notably gripping it for emphasis.

“I think I just always look my best,” I toss back and he nods.

“Also true,” He murmurs. “Now sleep, I’ll be here in the morning,” He mumbled tiredly and I nodded, leaning down once more and pressing one last kiss to his lips.

“Night night, Azzie,” I murmur.

“Goodnight, my love,”

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obxsprincess · 10 months ago

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piano instructor!miguel “you’ve been over this a hundred times mami, again” he grumbles, pinching the forming headache fogging his temples. n watching you mess up over and over again as you play every song in the book… messing up every single one. but he didn’t need to be mean about it !!

“m’ cant, it’s hard” you whined, pretty eyes scrunched in frustration as you glare at the notes. and not the massive man sitting right next to you, trying to instruct you… and losing a lot of patience. you huffed, you were in your twenties !! just cause you were too shy in highschool to ever try piano didn’t mean you had to be here. with a man who was no doubt. intimidating. in every sinful way.

”your supposed to be teaching me, arnt you the best” you taunted brattily. you may be shy but it was no question the rich little brat you could be. n that’s probably what got you here, next to to this annoyingly attractive man. miguel. who was looking at you like you just said a joke. it truly was the first time you ever saw him smile, though it was more arrogant than anything

“really wanna test my skills, amor?” you hated when he called you love. hated it. cause why did it make your head twirl, and lashes flutter… in irritation definitely. obviously.

”Soy el mejor profesor, princesa. but I need to teach ya’ a few things in manners first hm?” of course he did. you both knew it when his gruff tone made your thighs clench together. only covered by your lacy pink skirt.

the same skirt that only moments after was scrunched around your pretty waist, your body sprawled over the pianos lid, and his face stuffed between your thighs. oh, you thought he was menacing before. now you couldn’t even wrap your head around it as his tongue taught you lesson and lesson again. you hated admitting it. that he really was the best ‘hands on instructor’.

but he had no problem repeating time and time again that your bratty mouth sounded a whole lot better squealing his name. and he much preferred your delicate fingers gripping his hair than playing those irritatingly impossible notes.

and oh god :(( his fingers were so thick. and long. and cruel curling inside your gummy walls. they did anything but shut your quiet, but quick of a sweet mouth up.

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@xaaaaaaax I’m sososo sorry for putting this off bby <3 made it a bit more brat taming such style cus hehe, he’s the mean instructor after all ;))

𐙚 based off of 𐙚

#miguel smut #miguel ohara smut #miguel o’hara smut #miguel o’hara blurbs #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara x you #miguel o’hara imagine #miguel ohara imagine #miguel ohara x reader #miguel ohara x you #miguel ohara x y/n #miguel o’hara x y/n #spiderverse smut

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blackmoonoracle · 2 months ago

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PICK A CARD - THE PATH AHEAD

PILE ONE

I feel like a lot is being hidden from pile one honestly, like- there are a LOT of blessings coming to you guys. One big blessing may be that you will be entering into some sort of partnership. Likely a business ordeal that is really going to help your reputation. I'm talking a lot of recognition, maybe even being given access to certain resources that are rather hard to ascertain for most people. This partnership could be with a fire sign woman, or some sort of witch. Or YOU could be a fire sign woman or a witch. I'm seeing where something you've been working on for a very long time is going to start paying off. For some it could be a skill, people could be giving you recognition for how thorough you are. It's possible that some people are going to be confused by your success? You could've been struggling with stagnancy for quite some time, and then it's like out of the blue suddenly everything is just paying off all at once. It's like people saw the work you were putting in, and they just sort of figured it was all for nothing maybe? Good on you for not letting the way people talked, viewed, or projected onto you keep you from going after your desires. You may be isolating yourself from family due to some kind of trauma, or perhaps that has already recently happened. It seems like you're already a bit of a loner, or hard for others to read? So this could be you abandoning a family dynamic, or refusing to participate in some sort of cycle any longer for the sake of benefiting an abuser or keeping the peace & happiness of others. You're learning how to prioritize yourself. You are releasing mental and emotional blockages in love, that have kept you from having emotional peace. Learning a new skill, and learning how to move in silence. I feel like you will be taking on a new endeavour and you are not going to be telling ANYONE about this. Keep your passion, don't forget who you are, and if people try to cause drama or fight with you or bring up past grudges don't even put energy into engaging with them. State your piece if need be and keep it moving, these people are only seeking access to your energy because they delude themselves out of admitting their regrets. Trust that the right doors will be opened for you, keep things to yourself for the time being and trust your friends. They're in your corner, they're NOT trying to hurt you. If this pile resonated, and you'd like to book a personal reading based on this particular topic you can message me and tell me your pile number for a 45$ in depth reading on this topic.

PILE TWO A LOT of pentacles came out for this pile, so more than likely Taurus, capricorn, Virgo, and 10th, 6th, and 2nd house energy are present here. I feel like a lot of you are rather self centered at times, there's nothing wrong with knowing when to prioritize yourself, but I do feel like there is a lesson coming up regarding your reputation and your tendency to hoard resources of some kind? It feels like you can be rather argumentative at times, or that alternatively you have a lot of internal conflict regarding your reputation and what success means to you. Even if you are not hoarding a resource of some kind, the common theme here is stubbornness. I see you WANT to be in this King of Pentacles energy, feeling like you have financial security AND luxurious amounts of spending money. Yet, I also feel like sometimes you get caught up in money and materialism. There is more to life than money, and with the 2 of cups on the bottom of the deck this could actually be about romance. The lovers was beneath it. I feel like you are needing to tap in more with your feminine side, maybe spending more time nurturing your ideas and desires. Learning how to back up what you want to create, there is a need for you to develop your space of comfort more. Give yourself more peace, and connect with those you love more frequently. Basically, from what I can tell spirit is asking you to take control and make some changes in the way you are engaging with your loved ones. Be more present, and stop projecting unrealistic expectations onto yourself and others. It can make you pretty crabby at times from what I can tell, and it puts you in a position to where you can be a bit greedy- or just stubborn in general about what you think should be expected from others. Be more accountable for the role you play in your misery & learn to let go of what YOU think is best. The universe is trying to show you an easier path, but you are scared of letting go of what you've created. Things move in seasons. Relax, and let shit happen, it doesn't always need to be to a T. Some of you also need to express your thoughts and feelings more frequently. My throat feels tight, and weird, and like blocked? So definitely work on your communication as well. Keep going, and know that you are in control of your path. If any of you are into energy cleansing, do that more frequently. Sleep more often, stop letting people get to you, or when you fall or fail, just shake it off. Don't let it control or affect you too deeply. sometimes it just is what it is. Lastly, pay attention to signs in the form of butterflies, and listen to more music. Dance, get creative, paint, host a kickback. Do SOMETHING to get your creative juices flowing. If this pile resonated, and you'd like to book a personal reading based on this particular topic you can message me and tell me your pile number for a 45$ in depth reading on this topic.

PILE THREE

I feel like this pile has gone through a lot of trials and tribulations recently, I'm picking up on either a water sign woman or maternal energy doing a lot of manipulative stuff. It feels to me like there is someone in your life that is using their emotions to align you with their desired outcomes. It feels like you are very much in your own idea of what life should be and how you can develop that for yourself. I see where you may have a creative endeavor that you really want to pay off. You may stress and have frequent anxiety about fulfilling this desire due to this energy and the way it engages with you. You're being asked to keep your goals and ideas in mind. By choosing yourself and your truest desires over what this person has decided is best for you you will find true healing and self expression. I feel that this individual has very black & white thinking and a position of authority somehow. Seeing as the Justice card came out. There may be an influence coming in from a passionate, witchy, or fire sign woman who is teaching you some form of manifestation or spell work possibly? This could also be you tapping into your witchy side. I just keep hearing witchy woman. Your outlook on life is being shifted significantly in the coming future in order for your path to your desires to unfold properly. You may be forced to leave things behind, you may have to cut your losses regarding financial support from a family member of some kind and take things into your own hands. I'm seeing where you will be forced to let go of some sort of comfort zone of some kind. Because it is actively blocking you from achieving your goals. It's being shown here where your desires and your current circumstances quite literally cannot develop together. Like it's impossible. You need to learn that sometimes, especially if this is about leaving the house and moving to be on your own- that you have to be willing to take risks. Things are not meant to always be easy, but you are a strong and willing soul who can accomplish whatever your heart desires. Find a new outlook, and really ask yourself if your desires are so unattainable. If this pile resonated, and you'd like to book a personal reading based on this particular topic you can message me and tell me your pile number for a 45$ in depth reading on this topic.

#pac #pick a card #pick a pile #tarot community #tarot online #tarot reading

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longdaytogo · 1 year ago

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the boy in the portrait

@hotchnaur wrote a fic for this!

This is based off a little snippet I wrote which honestly isn't much (since I have absolutely no writing skills) but was more of a "I need to write this down before it disappears forever from my brain" kind of rush.

This takes place in an AU where Draco didn't make it out of the Fiendfyre, but the war is won and done. The Ministry has ordered a cleanup and seizes pureblood residences, namely Malfoy Manor, and Harry volunteers to inspect the property. He doesn't know why he did, but still apparates to the front gate, in a sort of trance since the Room of Requirement incident, not fully understanding why he's feeling so.

As he walks up the spiraled stairs and down the long corridors, it hits him that he's in the Malfoy ancestral home, the very place where Draco grew up. The eerie quiet is interrupted by the sound of a child crying and murmured shushes from a further corridor up the path. When he follows the sound, he's greeted by a long line of portraits, all old and dead, glaring at Harry before sharply turning and disappearing into their paintings.

He continues down the path until he gets to the very last portrait—a young boy crying, fisted hands covering his face. The other portraits tell him to "pipe down that noise" before vanishing, leaving only Harry and the young boy. When Harry approaches the smaller boy in the portrait to ask if he's alright, he stops dead in his tracks. It's Draco. A much younger Draco who looks to be around 6 or 7, much smaller than his first year at Hogwarts with his signature white blond hair and not-so-pointy chin.

Young Draco sniffles, wipes away his tears, and looks up at Harry, confused about who he is. He asks where his mother and father are and how lonely he is here. He explains how he "woke up" one day in this portrait and feels scared. How all the other portraits (namely Great Great Aunt Belvina and Grandfather Cygnus) won't answer his questions and only tell him to be quiet.

Harry stares at the younger Malfoy absentmindedly. He tells Draco he's here to stay for a while and asks if he has any messages for Lucius and Narcissa. "They're out right now but they'll be back shortly," he says, and young Draco's eyes light up. Draco finds a willing listener in Harry and tells him about how sad he is here, how delightfully boring it is, about his new toy dragon from Diagon Alley and about that one time Pansy and Theo fell face first in a puddle of mud as he and Blaise had watched, giggling while saying so.

Harry quietly listens, noticing he still points his nose up tauntingly while teasing and the way his haughty air or confidence seems to permeate the conversation. Harry tries to absorb all that he can, overlapping this young Draco with his Draco—noticing their similarities and difference where one is all childlike innocence and laughter, while the other only a mere husk of a boy towards his final days.

Young Draco tells Harry about his first flying lesson and his new broomstick when he suddenly asks if Harry knows "Harry Potter." Shocked, Harry asks how he knows the name when Draco, going a bit red in the ears, replies back how he's going to be Harry's best friend at Hogwarts ("once my letter arrives in a few years!") he says proudly. He tells Harry how he's made father buy out all the books on "Harry Potter" and how mother reads them to him nightly.

Draco makes Harry promise not to tell anyone, sharing that he only revealed it to so because he had shared so much already. Harry promises and, feeling a bit disheartened, says he needs to go, but he'll come back soon. Young Draco pouts and whines but understands, reminding Harry to pass along the message to Lucius and Narcissa. He waves goodbye, on the promises of "I'll see you later," and disappears into his portrait. Harry watches the boy vanish, then turns to leave down the corridor he came.

Walking down the stone path back to the gate, he recalls a boy with teary eyes surrounded by scorching flames and another boy dreaming of befriending the Boy Who Lived. He leaves Malfoy Manor feeling choked and a little worse than when he arrived.

#harry potter #draco malfoy #i cannot write for shit but i hope this was somewhat legible if at least entertaining #i hope???#I TRIED #portraits only come to life once the subject is confirmed deceased #so uhhh draco is DEAD dead

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gabgabwrites · 16 days ago

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LESSON LEARNT | Professor!Patrick Zweig

summary ⇝ your insufferable colleague has no sense of time and you’re tired of that, though if there’s one thing Patrick doesn’t like, is a smart mouth, one you so happen to have.

warnings ⇝ allusions of art x reader, language, mentions of cheating, smoking, blasphemy(if you squint) smut! p in v, unprotected sex, choking, oral (M), fingering, cum-eating, collar(?), rough sex, slapping, spanking, spit play, barely aftercare, DEGRADATION TO ITS FINEST, praise, Patrick yaps and yaps about reader being a whore/slut…yolo, mdni

an: I had to touch some grass and myself during this &&& I have another 2 planned challengers fics coming out… one day

based off this request here!

you can read part 2…over here

You're an English professor at Stanford university, you're loved by many students and got along with most of your colleagues.

There was just one problem, majority your students almost always kept arriving late to your lectures because of the Biology professor, Professor Zweig who kept keeping his students overtime.

He irked you, he was cocky and arrogant and always boasted to you when a student got a higher mark in his class instead of yours, even if you taught English.

Even now, you had a few late stragglers enter your class, as you were busy reading to your class; 'I Have No Mouth and I Must Scream'. You had enough, you shut the book and excused yourself, telling your students to continue reading along and write down notes. You marched straight for the dark, thick double doors that led to the biology labs.

Lo and behold, stood Professor Patrick Zweig, packing away his microscope and other various equipment he used for his classes today, until he heard the banging of the double doors. As he turned over, he couldn't help but roll his eyes as he saw you standing at the entrance, a scowl on your face that he had to admit was rather cute.

"Oh no... my worst nightmare." He said sarcastically as he leaned against the table.

Zweig couldn't help but scoff, he watched as you walked over and he almost smirked at how much you were fuming in front of him. "We've had this talk before, let your students out on time."

He leaned against the counter, his arms resting on his hip, "Oh, please, you're being so dramatic, they're a few minutes late to a lesson, you're acting like it's my fault you started too early."

"I start on time, thank you, and I am certainly not being dramatic. Language is far more important than looking at dead insects."

Zweig raised his eyebrow, he had no trouble arguing with you, and with a grin, he pushed himself off the table and leaned forwards a bit, "Oh? Language is more important than biology? Don't make me laugh, the study of biology is much more useful and important than studying Shakespeare and dead poets."

"It's not about poetry," You groaned. "It's a goddamn language that everyone seated in my class speaks at home, unfortunately that is more useful than fucking insects."

Patrick couldn't help but laugh, his grin only widening, he was enjoying this far too much. He crossed his arms, his stance becoming wider, “Please, English is hardly a language, it's mostly made up of stolen words from Latin and Germanic languages. Besides, what is so important about knowing the language when science is what the world functions through?"

You let out a small hum. "What if your students are religious, huh? What if they believe God created all creatures and critters?"

He rolled his eyes, "That's your counter argument? You want to go and talk about religion? Really? If God truly created all these things, then how come we have so much evidence and scientific facts disproving that? It's science over fiction, sweetie."

You scoffed, and muttered under your breath, "Blasphemy." With a frown, you turned around and went back to your lecture hall and picked up the book.

Patrick couldn't help but snicker as he watched your dramatic exit, oh he had to admit he was absolutely enjoying this new routine of riling you up with every encounter. He almost wanted to skip teaching tomorrow just to watch you fume even more.

"Alright, we'll pick up from page 146," You said, flipping to the page. "‘Cornfeld grasped the head of the hammer, and...’" The rest of the class went on with no more interruptions from tardy students, but in a small part of your mind, it still lingered to what Zweig had said.

Sure, you thought he was a cocky and arrogant bastard, but he also annoyed you so much. It was like he almost did it on purpose to rile you up.

The next day, your class was thankfully one of the last, but before Patrick's, and you knew some students had no luck and had to endure Biology back to back with yours. You smiled, today you planned to keep your students— the ones who had Biology next, in a few minutes later.

You weren't sure if he'd do something in retaliation for what you were about to do, but you really didn't care, the look on his face would no doubt be hilarious, especially when some of his students complained about being late for his lesson.

You had to make up some dumb reason, you pretended that those exact students had flunked the short item they wrote about two weeks ago, and had to discuss their mistakes. You knew it was a lame excuse, but it was the first thing that came to mind.

You could just imagine Zweig getting all huffy and impatient with the students as they were stuck in your class having to review their mistake.

The clocked ticked, minutes and minutes well passed the end of class.

You knew for a fact that those students were now late for the biology class, you tried to hide the grin growing on your face as you thought about how Zweig would take the tardiness, he was going to be absolutely fuming.

You sighed, pointing your neat and professional manicured finger at a big, red circle you made on a page. "See, here you got the facts wrong. Launcelot was a clown not a jester."

You heard some of the students groan and complain in the queue, some even looked at their watches and began to realise that they were now late for class. One of them, a male student, raised his hand slowly and peered at you over the shoulders of his classmates.

"Professor... Are you sure you need to go over every mistake?"

You raised a brow. "This topic will come up in your year end paper, so I expect you to get it right that time, and how else will you if you don't get it now?"

The male student groaned once more, he and the others all looked at their watches and then to each other. Another student, a female one, chimed in, "But we're going to be late for Biology."

You chose not to say anything, simply giving her a smile before turning back to the student you were attending to. "Right, where were we?"

They all looked at each other and gave out a collective sigh, but they had no choice but to listen to you review each and every one of their errors and mistakes. Every student glanced at the clock as the time slowly went on and on, they had to bite their tongues and try to pay attention as best as they could.

You could get a warning, or worse, but considering the Dean never took in your complaints, you didn't worry.

As the minutes passed, you were surprised at the amount of mistakes that students had done before in the past. You were about to look at another student's mistake, when you heard the loud sound of the double doors opening behind you.

You looked back over your shoulder and was stunned to see Zweig himself standing in the entrance with an intimidating glare on his face.

You bit your lip, turning in your chair to face away from him and back to your student.

The students all stood back and sunk into their places as they saw Patrick, he let out a huff and walked over to your desk. He stood for a moment in silence before speaking,

"Professor, may I speak with you for a moment?"

You looked over your shoulder, batting your lashes before giving him a sweet smile. "Can you give me ten minutes?"

Zweig raised an eyebrow at your response, he folded his arms and looked over to the students, who had all gone silent as he stared each one of them down. He let out a huff before grabbing your chair and pulling it away from the desk, "Actually, no. I need to talk to you now."

"I'm so sorry, Professor, l'm just a little busy."

You could see the slight twitch of irritation on Patrick's face, he leaned his hand against your desk and gave you a smirk, "Are you trying to play smartass with me?"

"I don't know what you mean. I'm just helping my students get a distinction for their grade." You told him

Zweig let out a scoff, "Cut the crap, I know exactly what you're doing, and you damn well know that you're purposely keeping these students in here to make them late for their next class."

"I'm not."

His jaw visibly clenched, he stepped even closer, leaning down even more so that you were almost face to face at this point, "Then explain to me how your class has ended twenty minutes ago and these students are still stuck in here and now late for my class?"

"I guess I lost track of time, whoops?"

Patrick's nostrils flared as he exhaled from his nose, he was beginning to lose his patience at your petty attitude.

"Right, because losing track of time is totally a good explanation to keep your students twenty minutes over the end of your class..."

Patrick's eyes trailed over to the students, who were all watching in anticipation as the two of you argued, some even looking amused at the scene playing out in front of them.

He sighed and looked back to you, "Why can't you just cut the crap and admit you did it on purpose to annoy me? I know you did."

"And if I did? Am? Then what?"

Patrick couldn't help but be caught a bit off guard by your response, he let out a half scoff and a half amused huff as he smirked down at you, "You're actually admitting to it? Really?"

"'m tired of you doing the same, Zweig."

Patrick rolled his eyes and groaned, he stepped back a bit and ran his hand through his hair, "You're acting like a damn spoiled child, it's not my fault my lectures sometimes go overtime because people in my class are actually interested to learn more."

"It's not about their interest," You snapped. "It's about their needs."

Patrick let out a scoff and rolled his eyes,

"Right, right, because they need to be in your class to sit around and hear you recite your favourite Shakespearean garbage?"

"It's not—," You caught yourself raising your voice, before taking in a deep breath. "You can either wait for me to finish, or move on."

Patrick let out a sharp exhale, he stood silently for a moment, his eyes were trained on you, studying your face as he debated his options. He stepped back over and leaned against the desk, "Fine, I'll wait, but you damn well better finish up before I get impatient."

You gave him a snarky smile, before focusing on the next student. "Okay, let's have a look..."

Patrick stood off to the side and crossed his arms, he was almost impressed with how adamant you were being in keeping him waiting and keeping him irritated.

He almost had to admit that watching you argue with him was oddly attractive, but he would never say it aloud.

"No, no, see they weren't talking about Christians here, they were talking about Hebrews." You groaned, as your pen jabbed the paper.

Zweig watched with slight amusement as you kept the students in your class even longer to correct their work and mistakes. He was starting to grow impatient and irritable by each second that passed. He let out a huff and looked to the clock again and then to you, "Are you ever going to finish?"

"If you let me." You snarled, shooting him a look over your shoulder.

Patrick rolled his eyes, he was beginning to find the whole situation less irritating and more entertaining, he held his hands up in surrender with a sarcastic grin, "By all means, take your time and continue, I have nothing but patience, after all."

"I'm glad." You snickered.

Patrick crossed his arms and let out a huff, he was definitely growing more impatient, he checked his watch before looking to the students that were all staring at the two of you with anticipation and curiosity.

"How much longer until you're done?" He asked, his voice having an underlying irritation in it as he looked back over to you.

"I don't know? Fifteen minutes? How about you go have a seat at one of the desks while you wait?" You asked him.

Patrick rolled his eyes, he could practically hear the sass dripping from your voice as you spoke to him. Nevertheless, he played along and walked over to one of the desks in the furthest row and slumped down into the seat.

A few of the students snickered and giggled as he shot them warning glares before fixing his eyes back to you.

Content enough, you went back to reviewing the mistakes of your peers.

Zweig sat in the seat, legs apart, arms crossed, and looking more than a bit irritated and bored as he sat in the desk.

He let out a frustrated groan and looked at the time again, twenty minutes had now passed and you were still keeping the students in class. He couldn't help but glance at you again, a part of him had to admit that you were very attractive, even when you were being a sassy smartass.

The bell rung a short beat. "Alright, I think you guys are all good for your paper. You may leave." You told the few students.

And Patrick Zweig smirked, his tongue pushing against his cheek to ease his annoyance.

The students quickly went back to their seats and gathered their belongings before rushing out, they were all eager to get out of the classroom and get to their next lesson. A couple of the girls giggled as they glanced over to Zweig on the way out, seeing him slumped in the desk and giving him knowing smirks.

"You really couldn't just let the students go early, huh?" Patrick asked in a mocking tone, he sat up straighter in the chair and stretched his legs, "You're a real pain in the ass, you know that?"

You looked up from your desk, Patrick physically was above you, from how the desks were on giant steps, even though you two were on complete opposite ends of the classroom. "It's what I have to deal with almost every other day."

Patrick let out an amused scoff as he rolled his eyes. "Oh please, don't go act like you're so pitiful and that I'm such a big bother to you. It's not like anyone else is going to complain about it and the students love my lessons."

"I have no doubt." You mumbled, pushing yourself off your seat, straightening the stack of papers on your desk.

Patrick noticed this, and it gave him an idea. He slowly stood up from the desk and took a large strides down the steps, towards you.

He watched as you finished straightening the stack before smirking and knocking them from your loose grip once he reached your desk.

"What the fuck?" You scoffed, stepping out from behind the desk to pick up the papers. To prevent your pencil skirt from rising, you unhappily kneeled down, knees digging into the tiles as you picked up the papers.

Patrick couldn't help but smirk. As you went to pick up one of the last papers, Patrick's boot came into frame, stepping on the paper. Your eyes flickered up in annoyance.

"You've been a real smartass today."

"Do you mind?" You asked bitterly, tugging on the paper lightly, enough for it to not tear.

He chuckled and continued to dig his foot down on the paper, he was now clearly teasing and taunting you.

"I don't mind at all... I think it's quite a good view, actually." He answered, still smirking down at you.

He bent down onto his haunches so that he was somewhat eye level with you. His eyes didn't miss the way yours unconsciously flickered to his crotch, even if it was for half a second.

He watched as a crease formed between your brows and your painted lips fell open to complain.

He continued to smirk as your expression contorted into a look of irritation, but he quickly cut you off once your mouth opened to respond, "Oh no, don't try to make a smart comment now... after all, you're in quite a position, aren't you?"

His thick fingers found loose hair hanging down by your ear, before he tucked it behind the shell of it.

"You know, you're quite pretty when you aren't being a total bitch." He said softly.

You hated how his touch on your skin sent a shiver down your spine, you didn't know whether you wanted to slap him or kiss him, and that only made you angrier.

"And you're even hotter when you aren't being an arrogant bastard." A snarky response escaped from your lips.

His pearly whites peaked from between his lips. "You find me hot? Fucking knew it."

Damn him, you really shouldn't have let that slip. You could feel a slight burn on your cheeks as you realised what you had just said.

"Shut up, I do not." You lied through gritted teeth, you tried desperately not to let your eyes wander to his lips.

"Yeah?"Patrick's gaze was locked onto you, he was very amused by the way your cheeks were blushing, his fingers continued to play with the loose strands of hair behind your ear, his touch was gentle and soft but his voice was mocking and sarcastic. "That's not what your body is saying."

And then, his hand curled around the mass of your hair and yanked, your scalp crying in pain and a strangled sound rumbled from between your lips.

"I bet if I kissed you, you'd kiss back, huh?" You gasped as a rush of pain and a rush of pleasure soarer through you, you let out a strangled moan, hating how it only proved him right.

"In your dreams." You growled through gritted teeth, not denying that you wanted his lips against yours.

"Oh baby, in my dreams we're doing a lot more than kissing."

Your breath hitched in your throat at his words, your mind running wild at the thoughts and images that invaded your mind.

"You're a pig," You said breathlessly, you tried to keep your voice firm and stable but you could feel your resolve breaking. "A fucking pervert."

"Damn straight," He grinned, his face leaning close enough for you to count every freckle and mole on his face. "God would send me to hell if he knew what I think of doing to you."

His breath was hot against your face, you could feel it as he leaned in close, you cursed yourself as you realised you were practically melting towards his touch.

"Well, I guess I'll see you there then." You breathlessly responded, a hint of a smirk beginning to form on your lips.

"Oh? You fucking minx." He purred.

You could feel yourself growing weak at the way he said that, his voice so low and deep, you were almost losing the ability to respond to him.

"What can I say? I've never been a saint," You mumbled, your lips only just millimeters away from his.

He brought his other thumb to your lips, giving you no time as he pushed it past them. "Such a pretty mouth, baby." His thumb traced along your teeth and tongue, making your lips look poutier than normal.

He chuckled as he watched your expression change from irritation to want.

Patrick smirked and leaned his head down so that his lips were next to your ear, his voice low and almost raspy as he spoke, "Do you know what I want to do to it, doll?"

Your lips wrapped around his thick digit in response.

His smirk widened at the feel of your lips wrapped around his thumb, a surge of desire ran through his veins.

"I have so many things I want to do to that mouth, baby. I want to make it do things you've only read about in your little romance books. I want to see those pretty lips all pink and swollen, I want to make them cry my name," His voice was hoarse and ragged and his breath was coming thick and heavy as he spoke. "Fuck..." He groaned, just at the thought of these things. "I pretend my fist is you, y'know. Your lips, your hand, your sweet pussy."

He whined. Like, actually whined. His eyes swept to you.

"Just once, I ask. Let me fuck your throat?" He asked, pulling his thumb from your lips.

You were weak like brittle bone, and crumbled and caved.

You gave him a nod, and it was like a switch flipped. He stood up to his full height and fumbled with his belt, his movements were sloppy, abrupt and jarred, he was almost angry.

Patrick hated how much he hated how much you got under his skin and infuriated him every single damn day, he hated how you were always the first thing on his mind.

But above all, Patrick hated how much he really, really wanted you.

His belt slid from the belt loops, allowing for his pants to sag. He kicked them off with ease, presenting you with the massive tent in his underwear. "You're gonna swallow every inch, like a good slut." He sneered, he grabbed his belt and swung it around your neck, making quick movements as he made a makeshift collar, one that dug into your neck.

"Yeah?" You choked out, your defiant attitude coming back as you continued to look up at him, your gaze trailing down from his face to his chest, down further until it landed on the tent in his underwear.

You swallowed as you felt him tug on the belt around your neck, you could feel the cold leather against your skin, the material digging into your throat as he held the other end of the belt and pulled you towards him.

"Yeah." His lips pursed, before a glob is his saliva landed square on your cheek.

He gave you little room for thought before one of his hands harshly smacked against your skin, before he smeared around his spit.

Half your face was glazed with his saliva as he pushed two of his fingers in your mouth, momentarily.

"Open up." You instinctively opened your mouth, looking up at him with a mixture of hate and a twisted but undeniable desire. You looked utterly shameful and pathetic as you sat on your knees while Zweig stood above you, his fingers in your mouth and the leather of the belt around your throat.

You despised the way you were behaving, but at the same time, it somehow only made the heat between your legs grow

You were in a state of mind that confused you. You hated Zweig with all your might, but in that moment, you wanted him with an intensity you hadn't felt before.

He slipped his fingers away from your lips, using that hand to yank his boxers down while the other remained with a firm grasp around his belt around your neck.

You couldn't help but allow your gaze to slide down his body, your eyes taking in every inch of him as he slowly revealed himself to you.

You had to admit that he was large and thick and it only served to make your heart thump louder in your throat, making you all the more aware of the belt around your neck and Zweig's hand holding the end of it. You felt pathetic and helpless, even more so as you looked up at him through widened eyes, waiting for what he was going to do next.

He used his wet hand to pump his dick, getting it somewhat lubed up before aligning it with your mouth. Patrick gave little care to your natural reflexes and shoved his whole length past your lips, groaning at the warm, wet feeling enveloping his cock.

"Yeah, Professor... you can write all the essays you want, but you still can't hide the fact that you're nothing but a dirty, filthy slut. You're only good for one thing, don't lie." He smirked, watching as your eyes began to well over with tears.

It made him feel smugly confident seeing that he made you cry, knowing that you were the one beneath him. Not just literally either.

You make some sort of strangled sound as you choke around him, feeling spit drool at the corners of your mouth.

"Look at you," He muttered. "All messy and disgusting. Pathetic. And to think you teach at one of the top schools in the country."

His eyes raked over his saliva that still coated your cheek, at your makeup that began to drip down your lashes, as your eyes that began to flutter while you tried your best to take him.

Patrick swore you were a fucking angel that dropped down the very heavens he cursed at as he felt his lower belly stir.

He groaned deeply, his eyes rolling back a little. "What would your students think, seeing you like this, huh? Seeing their 'great' professor, looking so debauched and filthy in her own lecture hall, with her pretty, little mouth stretched around her 'coworkers' cock. I bet your students would all be very disappointed. You think they all look up to you, but they'd be so disgusted if they found out you were just a dirty, little, cock-sucking, lying, whore who'd do anything for a few extra pennies. I bet they'd all be so shocked that the professor of English likes being on her knees just as much any other dumb little girl... and just for a pathetic little biology teacher, of all people."

His hands pulled at the belt end, that's wrapped around your neck, forcing the walls of your throat to strain against his aching cock.

"And you," He added as he gave another firm pull. "You like it too, huh? You're loving this. You're only a pretty, little plaything, and it only took me a few minutes to make you understand that. At least I know what you use that good-for-nothing mouth of yours for when you're not spewing useless knowledge to a bunch of idiots all day."

You didn't know of the tears that ran down your cheeks was from his cock’s head constantly bumping the back of your throat or from his degrading words.

"You have no idea how much I've wanted to do this... ever since we first met. You're not my type though, not really. Far too annoying. But then again, you're useful for this one, specific thing. At least I can appreciate that."

He groaned deeply and let go of the leash, letting you take over what you could.

"Show me what else that tongue can do, Professor..."

Your lips were swollen and your throat cried out in pain. You allowed for his member to slip from your lips, letting your hand wrap around it while your lips moved down, over to his heavy set of balls.

He looked down to watch, his breathing ragged and uneven. "Yeah... just like that. God, just like that. You really were made for this, huh?"

His large hand found the crown of your head, fingers tangling between the strands as he pushed your face deeper into his balls.

He was basically riding your face, while you still pumped his cock.

"That's perfect," he groaned. "Absolutely perfect, I should put you in your place more often, Professor. You're doing a fine job for me. I hope you don't mind if I do this a little more often now, I've always wanted to shut that pretty-face of yours... and, I think l've found a good way to do exactly that."

You mumbled something, though it was incoherent and muffled.

He chuckled breathlessly. "I couldn't quite hear that, Professor. What did you say?"

In complaint, you sucked hard, sucking his balls deeper into your mouth, while your hand squeezed hard around his shaft.

"Fuck," He groaned. "Won't drop the attitude even with my fucking balls in your mouth?"

He shuddered a moment, watching as you continued to suck and work him.

"Yeah, I've definitely been thinking up the right punishment for you when you go around acting like a smartass... all it took was a few minutes to shut you right up."

Your free hand snaked down your torso, where it inched up the tight pull of your skirt, and found haven between your pantyhose. Your fingers reached your achy and throbbing clit.

"You really are that desperate, huh? You can't wait for me to finish, you have to do it yourself? I guess it's just part of your personality, you're a little, impatient brat, always needing to have things done your own way, with no consideration for anyone else."

Your tongue was scratchy as it lapped over his course hairs, you felt his balls grow heavy in your mouth, signalling he was close to release.

"Almost... I'm almost there... just a bit more." He panted

He couldn't look away from the sight of you, on your knees and working him with your mouth while you touched yourself.

"Can't wait to see you walking around the campus with my cum all over your face... so they all know just what you really are: a worthless, little whore desperate for anything I do to you. I should put you through this more, Professor... it suits you... much better than being a teacher, don't you think? You look so good on your knees, where you belong... like a dirty, little cock sucker."

His hips thrust up into your hand a few times, before he was spilling his cum all over your face, and even past your hairline and in your hair.

He groaned deeply, his head thrown back and eyes squeezing shut. "God. That's it... that's good, take it all, let me paint your face with my cum. Fuck!" He gritted out as he rode out his release.

With heavy pants, his soft cock slipped from your grip as his balls from your swollen lips.

He groaned at the sight. He couldn't stop himself, even if he tried, from his palm from making contact with your face and spreading his semen around, adding to the previous layer of tacky saliva.

"Just look at that," He muttered."Beautiful. So much better than that stupid, stuck-up attitude of yours. Bet you'll think twice before trying to act tough with me again."

You swallowed, throat raw, before getting up on shaky feet.

You took in a breath, before your hand whipped out and hit his cheek.

"God I needed that," You groaned out, before shifting and limping over to your desk where you managed to clamber on. "Let's see if you can fuck well."

He was honestly a little shocked by your response, not that he let you see that. He merely smirked and crossed his arms over his chest. "You're going to regret that, Professor."

He took one long stride forward before he was between your legs. His hands shot out before he grabbed your nylon tights and ripped them, creating a gaping hole that expose your lacy thongs.

"Look what we have here," He chuckled as he gazed at the destroyed stockings. He looked at your soiled pair of underwear, blotched with your arousal. "Who knew the English Professor had such lewd panties,” He laughed, his thumbs hooking in the fabric of your waistband. "Should I send the biology department a little gift, Professor? Show them just what you look like beneath your clothes?"

You grunted, hating how you had a flicker of pain go through your chest. "Would I be able to find another Professor's cock to suck?"

A scoff left his lips. "I don't think any other faculty member could handle you as I could. I've seen the way the rest of them look at you."

"Oh, and how's that?"

He gave you a wolfish grin and leaned forward a little, putting his hands on your hips. "Like they just want to devour you, every last inch of you. You're one of the youngest professors in the school... and definitely the prettiest. I'd bet all the others would love to have a round with you."

"Maybe I should let them," You said with confidence. "Mm, what about that cute, little History teacher? Professor Donaldson? Think he'd be interested?"

He tensed at that, jaw twitching. "Yeah, he'd love to get his hands on you, I'm sure. That loser couldn't even keep his wife, and now he probably spends his free time staring at your ass..."

"Oh so he's an ass man? Thanks for letting me know." You gave Patrick a sweet smile while his top lip curled in disgust.

"And what of the rest of the staff?" He asked, not liking your smug expression. "What about the psychology teacher, or the business professor... or maybe even the dean?"

"The Dean? How taboo." You grinned.

"Very taboo," He grunted. "Which I'm sure you're into... I'm sure you'd go absolutely wild at the thought of getting bent over the desk of the college dean, huh?"

"I mean, he's just a little too old for me, but I hear older men are more experienced."

He scoffed again, his fingers tracing down to your inner thighs, close to your aching core. "You're really pushing it, you know... what if I had to tell the rest of the staff what a little whore you are?"

"Oh please do. They must know how well I sucked your cock, how good I am with my mouth."

"Yeah?" He said smugly, his hands moved to your underwear and began massaging your aching pussy. "Do you think the rest of the staff would be interested in having their own personal mouth whore? And I'm sure you'd just be aching for it, wouldn't you? You'd just love to be the campus little toy, just be passed around amongst the faculty... probably can't wait for it, in fact."

You whimpered, feeling your mind already fog up from his fingers through the fabric of your thongs. You shifted your hips, giving him more room to move your pencil skirt.

"Yeah, is that what you were thinking about? Sitting at your desk, thighs spread wide open, and just being passed around? Like you're nothing but a toy for the entire faculty to use, as much as we want?"

"S-Shut up."

"Don't get shy, Professor," He said smugly. "We all know you love the idea, probably even think about it while you're alone in your apartment late at night... I bet you're thinking about it right now."

You sighed, your fingers going to unzip your skirt with wobbly movements.

"You know, it'd be perfect, you'd probably never need to teach again, you'd just be a little office slut, going around and helping any single man in the building, you'd be much better suited for that anyways, I'm sure you know that."

"No..." you groaned out, pushing your skirt off.

His fingers dipped beneath the lace of your thongs. "Yes, Professor, you wouldn't get anything done in the day, you'd be too busy servicing every member of the faculty, the principal, the other professors, the TAs, and the other staff members, even the groundskeepers and lunch-men, I bet you'd be the most diligent worker around campus."

You gasped when two of his fingers sunk into your weeping hole.

"Yeah, that's it... that's much better than all that teaching you do, isn't it? At least you'd be really useful now," He snickered, pushing his fingers in to the base. "Although I'm sure you'd end up getting pretty tired pretty fast... and I doubt the rest of the staff would have any sympathy on you for being so tired. I'm sure you'd be the most popular employee by far."

He pulled his fingers out. His two hands landed on your shoulders before he spun you around, basically pulling you off the desk until the edge was cutting into your hips, your face pressed up against the mahogany.

"I bet this is how you always dreamed you'd spend your days here, huh? Bent over the desk instead of writing your pretty little papers." He grunted as he bent down to his discarded pants and fished out a cigarette and his lighter.

"Hey, you can't smoke in here." You told him.

"Oh, now you're going to actually remember your responsibilities?" He said with an amused chuckle, lighting the cigarette. "Too late for that now, Professor... just accept what's happening."

He set the lighter down on the desk before taking a long drag from the cigarette, watching as a stream of smoke left his lips.

"You're a little late to be playing the prim, Professor, after being on your knees in the middle of the lecture hall just a few minutes ago."

The hand that wasn't holding his cigarette went to your underwear, where he began to tug at it, just enough for it to stop midway down your thighs.

"And now you're here, on your desk, about to get bent over like a little toy, I'm sure you never imagined it'd turn out like this," He snickered, the hand on your panties giving a teasing pull. "I don't think you're gonna be wearing these to your next class,Professor."

He let his cigarette hang between his lips while both of his hands landed on your ass cheeks, giving them a spread to expose both holes.

"God, look at you..." He muttered. "So eager, probably been trying to hold out for weeks now, huh? I don't think you've had any action in a long time, Professor, you're just desperate for someone to actually notice you, I bet you'd take anything, wouldn't you? Just as long as it gives you attention."

"Dickhead." You mumbled.

He laughed, stilling taking puffs from his cigarette. "Bet you'd let me take any hole I want. Imagine your tight ass being stuffed with this cock. Probably why you wear those little skirts," He snickered. "You just want someone to be noticing you, to get their eyes on just how provocative you are... desperate for some attention."

You didn't hear any movements, but you sure as hell felt them. His dribbling tip found your opening, before he pushed in, all while he eyes your tighter hole that puckered for attention.

"Mm, look at that, you're so tight, I bet those other professors have no idea how tight you still are, or has someone else been giving you attention?"

Your eyes rolled back as he sheathed himself, pain blossomed between your legs.

"Fuck, baby… you're so tight. It's like you've never had a good, real cock fill you up. I bet the other professors would love to hear that, Professor, that their pretty little English teacher is a needy little whore who just needs a good, hard cock to keep her in her place," He chuckled at he slowly started to buck into you. "You're just so perfect for this, aren't you?

Patrick leaned forward, cigarette still hanging from his lips, as his hand dug into the collar of your blouse, yanking down hard and popping all the buttons before he shoved your head back down onto the desk.

"There you go. I'm not even sure why you wear all these pesky clothes, you look so much better like this, like you're just here for decoration. A pretty little thing, ready for the taking... doesn't your staff profile say you have a boyfriend, Professor? Maybe I should give the poor bastard a call and let him know that you're really not working late, and that you're just getting railed by your colleague... I'm sure he won't even care."

"Shut the f-fuck up." You groaned, feeling the fat of your ass jiggle with his thrusts and arousal drip down your thighs.

Patrick grinned, his fingers dug into the flesh on your hip, when his eyes caught sight of something. An idea popped into his mind as he picked up your personal reader, some book about faeries, before he threw it down in front of you. "Read."

"Read..?" You muttered, still dazed from him fucking into you. "You want me to read?"

"Yeah I do," He said smugly, not slowing his pace. "That's what you're supposed to be good at, Professor... read whatever sentence is on the page, out loud. Let me hear your pretty voice."

You grunted before flipping open the book to a random page. "Mm, Fine, 'He raised a finger to his lips a-and winnowed'—fuck!"

He chuckled at the break in your voice, how the words stuttered from your mouth. "That's better... read again. The next paragraph this time, if you can manage it."

Your lips fell open and a gasp ripped past, "'We free-fell, and I didn't have breath to scream as his wings appeared'— Mm, Patrick..."

"Come on," He said smugly, his movements becoming slightly rough. "Keep reading. If you stop, I'll stop."

The words printed on the page began to swirl together as your vision became hazy. "B-But." You moaned through gritted teeth.

"No buts," He said firmly. "Keep trying. Don't start giving up now, you're supposed to be smart, remember? Keep trying to read, Professor, it's what you're supposed to be good at."

You couldn't help the sob that escaped your lips, there were no tears, you were just too overwhelmed with pleasure that it was hard to focus. "'Spreading wide, and... he curved us into a... steady g-glide.’ " Your nails clawed at the desk as you felt heat burn between your legs.

Even he was impressed with you managing to keep reading through the pleasure, although he would never tell you that. "Good... good, Professor. Keep going. What's the next line?"

"'Right through the open windows of what ha...had to be a war room...' Patrick, I can't." You mewled.

"You must've misunderstood me," he grunted. "I told you tokeep reading, so you keep reading, Professor. Come on, what was the next part of the sentence?"

You shook your head, mind too fogged to think.

He stopped moving altogether and reached out, one hand grabbing you by the hair, and he pulled your head upwards, arching your back. "What did I just say?"

You whined, trying to move your hips back onto his to get friction.

"You're not getting anything if you're not gonna do what I tell you," He said firmly. "Now come on, you're supposed to be smart, Professor, I'm sure you can tell me just one more line."

"'There was a mirror'," You said softly, with a tired voice. "'On the wall behind them'."

"There we go," He breathed, releasing his grip on your hair. "Was that so hard, Professor? Do you think you can keep going?"

"Please, I need to... need to—." You stopped yourself, words stuck in your mouth, as if you were worried about what you might say.

Patrick's hips pulled back before snapping forward, sending you lurching back onto the table. "What was that? I didn't quite hear what you were gonna say, Professor," he grunted, letting his hand caress your lower back. "Come on, you're doing pretty good so far... use that pretty voice of yours and tell me just what you need."

You whimpered, trying to form a response, but it felt like you had cotton in your mouth, like the words were stuck in your mouth. It was like they just needed a little push, just one little word needed to tip you over the edge, to get you to fully submit.

You tried your very best to read again, feeling the fuzzy feeling in your lower tummy start to build. "'There was d-dark—' please Patrick, I really can't." You begged.

"Shh-h-h," He cooed, his hand rubbing your lower back. "You're doing so good... you've read your whole little paragraph. Now you're just missing that one last sentence, Professor. Just one more, I'm sure you can do it."

The cigarette he was smoking had burned down and fell from his lips, the sizzling butt of it lay on your floor.

'''Colossal sense of him—' Fuck!" You screamed, tired and aching for a release that began to creep up on you.

He chuckled as the book slid free of your hand and hit the desk with a thud. "See, I knew you could do it, Professor, I knew all you needed was a little push,"

You mewled out softly, letting your mind fully focus on Patrick penetrating you.

He chuckled as your body relaxed, clearly getting tired of trying to keep up the act. "Is that it, Professor? Is that all it takes to get you behaving?"

You'd usually snap back and say something witty, but you couldn't. Not when you felt this new pressure press against your puffy clit.

"Oh, and now you get nice and quiet... I guess you just needed some attention, huh, Professor?" he chuckled out, his voice ragged. "You look so damn good like this, bent over like a little slut for me, and you don't even have it in you to fight back." He tutted, feeling your walls clamp down and squeeze around him.

"I'm...I'm..."

"What's that?" He asked, still teasing. "You're what, Professor?"

"Cumming! I—!" You saw white before you felt it. Hot and raw through your veins as your orgasm soared through you.

Patrick swore as he felt himself come undone, not giving a flying fuck about pulling out.

"God, you feel so good..." He muttered through gritted teeth. "I knew you just needed a good, hard cock to get you to behave."

His rough hand pulled away from your clit and landed a harsh slap against your ass before he pulled out.

You felt used and abused and honestly didn't mind it, especially not after having your brain fucked out of you (albeit it being from your worst enemy)

He chuckled breathlessly, collapsing in the chair that was usually reserved for you. "Jesus, Professor... I gotta say, I didn't think you'd behave that quickly, I guess a day at the top will do me wonders."

You felt utterly pathetic as you peeled yourself off the table, your face sticky with previous endeavours. Pain burned hot between your legs as you stood up, blouse popped open, pantyhose ripped, and thighs soaked in cum.

Patrick had to pinch himself to make sure he didn't die and go to heaven, though he'd never admit that you looked like a pervert's wet dream. His wet dream.

You shimmied your panties back up your thighs, even though it took you time to get it to move from it being stuck between the nylon and your thigh, and grabbed and slid your skirt back on.

He watched you pull your clothes back on, looking like an absolute mess. "You gonna go tell the rest of the faculty how your supposed work day turned out, Professor?" He sneered with an amused smile.

You shot him a sarcastic smile as you tried your best to fluff out your hair. "I'm sure Professor Donaldson would love to know, y'know?"

Patrick's face fell for a moment before he schooled it with a grin. "Funny."

You made an amused sound, before turning to your drawer and grabbing your lecture hall's keys, tossing them at Patrick. "Lock up, will you?"

He caught the keys and sighed, shaking his head. "God, you're insufferable..."

You gave him a grin before you began on your slightly wobbly walk out the lecture hall.

He grumbled, his eyes not able to resist the urge to watch your hips sway with each step you took.

"See you next week, Professor..." he called out, trying to school his voice back to his usual teasing tone.

And well he did.

Anger and annoyance etched onto his face as he watched you leave Professor Donaldson's lecture hall. The guy looked all bashful as you left, your fingers in your hair, trying your best to fix it.

Oh you did not.

#gabgabwrites #my works ✎#x reader #patrick zweig #patrick zweig x you #patrick zweig x reader #patrick zweig smut #challengers x reader #challengers #challengers patrick #josh o'connor #josh o connor x reader #patrick zweig x reader x art donaldson

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study-diaries · 7 months ago

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Math Tips

(Pictures are not mine)

Well, let me tell you, we all have this love-hate relationship with this subject, right? The worst part is that when you don't know what the heck is going on, so, as a girl who studied maths (2 Volumes/textbooks) on her own during the year she was homeschooled, here are some tips and tricks that I did to get an A+ in my math finals!

Get your syllabus together

In the beginning I had no damn idea what was going on and it was just confusing. I had to do the first thing I did was taken my index/table of contents and mark the chapters which i knew very well and the ones I had no clue about. And then i arranged them with the marking scheme, like which one carries the most marks etc etc and study accordingly.

Complete lessons/chapters that you already know

When you finish off the things you already know then that's gonna give you the confidence you need even if you know only 1-2 chapters, learn it throughout and make sure that you'll get the answer no matter how twisted the sum is. If you're doubtful about the whole textbook like any normal person.... Start with the easy ones. (I know there are literally really no "easy" chapters, spare me)

Harder chapters need hard work

Most chapters like Trigonometry proofs, Geometry proofs, Algebra, Graphs, Mensuration and Calculus etc need more than minimum effort but here's a trick, what is the common thing in this? Yes, they're all formulae and theorem based which goes to my next point. These chapters are completely based on how much you've understood your basics.

Formulae and theorem cheatsheets

Make a list of all formulae and the theorem used in the book, write them chapter wise and no printouts or digital notes. Take a paper and write it down, no excuses. It helps you while you're practicing, revising and in the last minute review, it helped me damn much. Remember, maths is a sport. The basic formulae must come to you like reflexes.

YouTube is your best friend.

For every single chapter, go and watch the basics and how a sum is done step by step. A recommendation for this is Organic Chemistry Tutor who literally is one of the reasons i passed. He has videos from basic geometry, trigonometry, statistics to calculus. Search for your own YouTubers and be clear with concepts.

Math is fully memorization

Memorize formulae and theorems with the back of your hand, you should be able to recall them within seconds. Be thorough.

Memorize basic math values (if calculator isn't allowed)

Do this if you have a majority of chapters like Statistics, Mensuration, Profit/loss calculation etc, where large numbers are concerned. Memorize the first 10 square, cube, decimal and multiplication values. It may be dry but there are literally songs available for these things, I'm serious, i learnt the first 10 cube roots by listening to Senorita xD Search for rhymes and they'll definitely be many!!

Work it out!!!!!!

Can't stress this enough, atleast 30-40 mins is the minimum for maths. I'm serious, work out each sum, don't ever think it's a waste, you'll see the results. Practice makes perfect. Work out every single sum, from examples to exercise ones cause let's be honest, our examiners love to take problems from every nook and cranny of the book.

Whiteboard method

So, I made this up and it actually works, if you have a whiteboard or anything else, once you completed a chapter, take a random page and whatever sums you have on those two pages, you need to complete within a given time limit. It helps you to identify your weak points and where the hell you're losing both time and effort and not to mention that it gives you confidence boost up.

Hope this helps :))

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warrioreowynofrohan · 8 days ago

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This is one of the best articles I’ve seen yet on Trump, Trumpism, and the upcoming election. It’s directed at the right and centre-right (whereas most tumblr posts on this are directed at the left), but it’s saying – with detailed analysis and evidence – exactly what needs to be said, to everyone. This is not a normal election. How you vote this November determines whether you ever get the chance to vote in a democratic election again. This is not a game. Fascism is not a buzzword or a rhetorical device to hurl at anyone and everyone you disagree with. It is real, it is dangerous, and Trump is openly running on a fascist platform.

There are only two sides in this election: those who want the United States to be a fascist dictatorship and those who do not.

I live in Canada. I do not want to live next to a fascist state (especially since the Comservatives here are way ahead in the polls and their leader gives every sign of wanting to cozy up to Trump).

Please, stop this while you still have a chance.

Today we’re going to look at definitions of fascism and ask the question – you may have guessed – if Donald Trump is running for President as a fascist. Worry not, this isn’t me shifting to full-time political pundit, nor is this the formal end of the hiatus (which will happen on Nov 1, when I hope to have a post answering some history questions from the ACOUP Senate to start off on), but this was an essay I had in me that I had to get out, and working on the book I haven’t the time to get it out in any other forum but this one. And I’ll be frank, some of Donald Trump’s recent statements and promises have raised the urgency of writing this; the political science suggests that politicians do, broadly, attempt to do the things they promise to do – and the things Trump is promising are dark indeed.

Now I want to be clear what we’re doing here. I am not asking if the Republican Party is fascist (I think, broadly speaking, it isn’t) and certainly not if you are fascist (I certainly hope not). But I want to employ the concept of fascism as an ideology with more precision than its normal use (‘thing I don’t like’) and in that context ask if Donald Trump fits the definition of a fascist based on his own statements and if so, what does that mean. And I want to do it in a long-form context where we can get beyond slogans or tweet-length arguments and into some detail.

Now the response from some folks is going to be anger that I am even asking this question and demands for me to ‘stay in my lane.’ To which I must remind them that the purpose of history and historians is, as Thucydides put it, is to offer “an exact knowledge of the past as an aid to the understanding of the future, which in the course of human affairs must resemble if it does not reflect it” (Thuc. 1.22.4). This is my lane. Goodness knows, I’d much rather be discussing the historical implications of tax policy or long-term interstate strategy, but that isn’t the election we’re having. And if hearing about these things that happened is unpleasant, well, Polybius offers the solution: “men have no more ready corrective of conduct than knowledge of the past” (Plb. 1.1.1). We must correct our conduct.

The author, Bret Devereaux, lays out the history of the rise to power of Hitler and Mussolini and draws out the lessons

What I want to note here are two key commonalities: First, fascists were only able to take power because of the gullibility of those who thought they could ‘use’ the fascists against some other enemy (usually communists). Traditional conservative politicians (your Mitch McConnell and Lindsey Graham types) and conservative business leaders (your Elon Musks) fooled themselves into believing that, because the would-be tyrant seemed foolish, buffoonish, and uneducated that such an individual could be controlled to their ends, shaped in more productive, more ‘moderate,’ more ‘business friendly’ directions. They were wrong; many of them paid for their foolish error with their lives (Victor Emmanuel III paid for it with his crown). Mussolini and Hitler would not be ‘shaped,’ – they would be exactly the violent, tyrannical dictators they had promised to be – to the total and utter ruin of their countries.

Note that these men were not exactly subtle about what they wanted to do. Mein Kampf is not a subtle book. But they both knew how to promise violence to their followers while prevaricating to their temporary allies; be wary of the fascist who promises violence in his rally speeches but assures you that, if you just give him power, he won’t hurt anyone (except the people you don’t like) – because it is a lie, of course.

Second: once these fascist leaders were in power it was already too late to stop them. Precisely because fascists had no respect for democratic processes and the rule of law – things they had declared openly in seeking power – once in power, they were unconstrained by them and swiftly set about converting all of the powers of the government into a machine to keep them in power. And the conversion from democracy to dictatorship was remarkably swift, in Italy, Mussolini marched in October of ’22, rewrote the election rules in November of ’23 and by December of ’24 had effectively dropped even the pretense of democracy; just two years. Hitler was faster: appointed chancellor in January 1933, by March of that year he had suspended constitutional protections and ruled by fiat; just three months.

The time to stop an authoritarian takeover of a democratic system is before the authoritarian is in office, because once they are in power, they will use that power, to stay in power and it becomes almost impossible to remove them without considerable violence (and difficult to do even with considerable violence).

That, however, creates a tricky situation. With most political ideologies, voters can adopt a strategy of judging by outputs: “if you don’t like the current government’s policies, let these other fellows here have a go at it and see if they do better. If not, you can always vote them out next time.” But with fascists and other authoritarians there may not be a next time and this strategy fails: by the time the actions of the fascists make it clear they are dangerous, it is too late to vote them out.

This is why it is important to listen carefully to what fascists say and what they promise and most importantly to take their threats of political violence and authoritarianism seriously.

Which is not to say that everything on the right is fascism (just as not everything on the left is its own authoritarian variant, communism). Ronald Reagan was not a fascist, nor was George H.W. Bush or George W. Bush or John McCain or Mitt Romney. They were conservatives within the liberal tradition (again, ‘liberal’ here in the old Jefferson-Locke-and-Washington sense). Most Republicans today are not fascists, although a distressing number appear ready to repeat Franz von Papen’s mistake of assuming they can achieve their goals through an alliance with fascists. Only the devil wins such a devil’s bargain.

How is one to tell the difference? Listen to the things they promise to do and understand that they make speak out of both sides of their mouth: promising violence to one audience and then toning down their rhetoric to another. But politicians speaking from within the tradition of liberty don’t need to speak that way because they don’t promise violence in the first place.

Listen for the promises of violence, the promises to suspend press freedoms, the promises to persecute political adversaries and when you hear them believe them.

I strongly recommend reading the whole article, as the author goes on to lay out two of the more common definitions of fascism and analyze, point-by-point, how Trumpism fits them.

There is a reason why some Republicans, even some of the people who were in Trump’s inner circle in 2016-2020, have jumped ship now. The Republicans who are willing to vote for Kamala aren’t doing it because she’s conservative – they’re doing it because they’re anti-fascist. It would be deeply ironic if people on the left who have been calling themselves anti-fascists for the last eight years proved to be less so than those Republicans. This may be one of the most crucial moments in American history. Take it seriously.

#politics #us elections #donald trump #trumpism

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traintrainingmontage · 29 days ago

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Edward Appreciation Essay: The Choice to Be Kind

I was hoping to have this done as a 50-follower (and birthday!) milestone, but as always, life's chaos has gotten in the way. However, it IS here just in time for the Thomas TV series' 40th anniversary!! Happy Birthday, Thomas!! With that milestone in mind, let's get to it.

In much the same vein as my Skarloey Appreciation Essay, I'd like to point out something that I genuinely love about Edward, and that is his conscious choice to be kind, even when he's been mistreated by others. There's plenty of kind characters--Percy immediately comes to mind, as well as Henry (although his kindness varies depending on the depiction), Toby (to an extent), Duck, the Scottish Twins, and others. However, for Edward, kindness is one of his defining traits, especially a kindness that not only bolsters him in the face of adversity from outsiders and "friends" alike, but is a quality that he chooses to feed and fall back on, even when so many others would give in to their less generous inclinations. Please note that although I'm celebrating the anniversary of the TV series, this analysis is primarily based off of the Railway Series, since it's what I'm most familiar with. I'm also not going to focus on famous stories, such as Old Iron and Edward's Exploit, for this particular analysis.

I think there's a lot to be said for Edward's forbearance in terms of dealing with people being rude to him. He's not interested in getting even with other engines or rubbing their misfortune in their faces. He doesn't even ignore them! Instead, he continues to be kind and to be friendly, greeting everyone he sees and helping out those who need help, and in the end, continues to come out on top by choosing to not hold a grudge the way so many others on the railway do.

What motivates this particular choice, though? I'm hardly the first to speculate on why Edward is the way he is, and others have done and will do far deeper analyses on this point than me, but nonetheless, I'll offer a few ideas. In the context of the TTTE universe, I think that part of Edward's kindness simply stems from being old, wise, and experienced. He's seen engines come and go, and his class replaced and was replaced by another. The engines that are so proud of themselves now will find themselves in his wheels eventually. Plus, it's quite likely that Edward knew of engines who were replaced and eventually scrapped; back then, it wasn't the terrifying thing that it became later in the series because it followed the idea of engines simply living out their full and natural lives. Scrapping and modernization became such threats because even engines who hadn't lived out their service lives were being withdrawn and scrapped, and an early death is much more terrifying to engines than death itself.

But Edward's experience aside, he's well-versed in yard politics. If he causes trouble, then that won't make him friends with either other engines or the management. Edward has, in a sense, been abandoned for being a shy steamer, and unlike the others who are here on trial, this is his home now. They may be being rude to him in his own home, but whining and whinging will get him nowhere, and he's learned that lesson well from watching countless upstart engines be put in their place or live long enough as kings to eventually lose their crowns. He knows he's older, that he's almost lived up to the end of his expected service life, so all he can do is put on a brave face and do his best to prove that he's Useful still.

Outside of the book's context, Edward's character feels very much like an ideal of the upstanding Christian, which makes sense given Awdry's profession. Edward consistently turns the other cheek when people are cruel or rude to him. He stands up for himself through his deeds rather than giving in to anger. And that's a very important lesson to teach young children; being good and kind individuals leads to much better outcomes down the line. Edward feels like an intentional role model by which Awdry could deliver these stories to his son, and keep him as an interesting protagonist who taught important lessons about the importance of being kind and persevering through and despite adversity from both one's friends and family and outsiders. Many of us see Edward as a role model, as someone to aspire to, for this very reason.

The first example of Edward's kindness comes up in the very first story of the Railway Series. The coaches ask Edward to "not bump and bang [them] like the other engines do" (Edward's Day Out). And Edward obliges! He comes up to them "very, very gently" and takes them along. They're so grateful that they say they're glad he's the one who took them out. At the end of the story, he does have a moment where he tells the other engines: "I'm going out again tomorrow[;] what do you think of that?" (Edward's Day Out). Admittedly, this could be seen as slightly snarky, but I think it's moreso coming from a place of genuine excitement and wonder, like "Wow! Finally! Finally, I got to go out, and tomorrow, I get to do it again!" It doesn't feel malicious so much as wanting to share his joy with the others, mostly because he falls asleep right after. If he actually cared about their opinions or being right, he likely would have stayed up to hear them.

In the next story, Edward helps Gordon up the hill, and naturally, is not thanked by Gordon himself, but rather, his driver decides he'll ensure that Edward gets a nice new coat of paint in thanks for his hard work. It's quite clear though that Edward didn't help Gordon out of any expectation of a reward, or even a thank you. He did it because it was the right thing to do, and the driver noticed that. But an even better example of Edward's kindness being notable is in the next book.

After Henry is shut up in the tunnel for being vain, Gordon teases Henry about it, and Edward does not. This is pretty significant because it's rather likely that Henry was one of the engines teasing Edward in the first story:

It's quite likely that that's Henry on the left, there, with Gordon being on the second to right, next to Edward. Plus, looking at all of their smiles compared to Edward's distress, it's clear that Edward is the butt of the joke and everybody's laughing. Thus, it makes it all the more satisfying when Henry and Edward work together to pull the express, and Henry is rewarded with a new coat of paint. He wants a blue and red one, as then, he says, "I'll be like Edward" (Edward, Gordon and Henry). It's just delightful to see how Henry, who had also been unkind to Edward, now strives to be more like him due to acknowledging and seeing the kindness and grace that Edward has shown him even when Edward truly didn't have to. Edward, I think, is much more interested in making friends than remembering faults, and seeing this happen is just proof that his efforts are starting to bear fruit. What he's been doing matters. His kindness has begun paying off. And I think that this is more than enough to prove to him that his efforts AREN'T in vain. That choosing kindness will work. Edward has never been one to shy away from hard work, and this proves that it's both working and worth it.

Now, there's also times when Edward's kindness doesn't particularly help the recipient, and such an example comes in the form of the tale Thomas and the Trucks. Thomas wants to do something other than shunt, so Edward offers to let him take some trucks. However, Thomas doesn't know anything about trucks, and disregards Edward's advice about managing them. Perhaps it was irresponsible of Edward to allow Thomas to take the trucks--it could very well be a lapse in judgement that came about from wanting to do a favor for a younger colleague. However, I would also argue that Edward may not have known that Thomas had never dealt with trucks. When Edward offers, Thomas gives an enthusiastic yes. Plus, Edward clearly takes trucks to and from Barrow (he mentions that he's "got some trucks to take home tomorrow" in Thomas and the Trucks) and in the context of the story, it sounds like Edward isn't always at the same sheds that Thomas is at. Thus, he likely just didn't know that Thomas had no experience with trucks, and did indeed think that he was doing Thomas a solid. The Fat Director not being mad at Edward for his role in the mess also supports this; if he really felt Edward was at fault in any way, he wouldn't have given him compliments.

I think that a lot of the fandom also sleeps on James and the Top-Hat and Troublesome Trucks as great James and Edward stories. While it's true that James the Red Engine is often considered one of W. Awdry's worst, there's still some good moments to be gleaned from it. In the first story, James and Edward double-head a train as James has to get used to working on the railway. He gets steam all over the Fat Director's new hat and immediately wants to run away from his problems, urging Edward and his coaches on so that he can outrace consequences. He gets so overzealous that he accidentally overshoots the station, and he and Edward have to back up. Despite this, and his worsening mood, Edward is encouraging, getting them both up Gordon's Hill, and even tells him a story that causes him to laugh so hard he gets hiccups. Of course, James has to deal with the Fat Director's anger in the end, but it's clear that working with Edward, at least for a little while, brought him some comfort and relief. In Troublesome Trucks, when the coupling snaps on some of James's trucks and he has to figure out how to proceed, Edward offers help, but James refuses, wanting to do it himself. Edward then offers him encouragement throughout it all, and when James finally succeeds, is rewarded for his efforts by the Fat Director. This is an excellent start to James and Edward's friendship, which continues to deepen with time and makes their relationship in future stories such as Old Iron feel that much more organic. James comes onto the NWR as having messed up, by having a fiery debut that lands him in a field, and as seen in other stories, suffers from Gordon and Henry's derision as a result. It's my opinion that with this foundation, Edward's kindness is keenly felt and appreciated, even subconsciously, and pays off in dividends as the series progresses.

From the earliest point in their relationship, Edward is encouraging and kind, seeing James's attitude as a deep, genuine desire to do well and fear of being unable to live up to expectations. Edward knows those feelings! He's felt them keenly himself! And this is another reason why he chooses kindness: Edward has developed a keen eye for people (and engines). He has a good sense of how they're feeling, and why they may be acting the way they do. He can empathize with a lot of what everyone's going through, and that also makes it easier to choose kindness. After all, none of these engines are truly bad people. They can be arrogant and stubborn, but that comes with youth and prestige more than anything, and Edward has seen plenty of that smoothed away with time.

The last example I'll give is that of Edward and Skarloey in Skarloey Remembers. Edward knows Skarloey well, from bringing him passengers way back when, and seeing him looking worse for wear in an open-sided shed, stops to talk to him. He invites Skarloey to talk about his line and just reminisce for a while, because he knows that's what the other needs. Not to mention that he and Skarloey are on the same page about a lot of things; it's nice talking to a fellow older engine who just gets it. It's also very telling that Edward was chosen to introduce Skarloey and the Skarloey Railway; he's the best listener and it makes sense that he would have history with Skarloey. Just by listening and being invested in other engines' lives and things that they care about is he able to make genuine and meaningful connections with other engines, because Edward has learned that by listening to people, people will generally start also listening to you. It's another subtle expression of kindness that helps him connect with others and be part of their lives, and I get the sense that's really what Edward wants.

Part of Edward's idea of feeling Useful is not being lonely. He knows what loneliness is. He felt it when the Furness abandoned him on Sodor by selling him for cheap and essentially telling him to not bother coming home. He knows the shape of loneliness from staring at the other engines coming and going, never being chosen, his boiler cold. And so, when he sees other engines at their lowest, at their loneliest, when they feel foolish and without any support, he extends his kindness. He extends his empathy and support. He has been there, and wouldn't wish the same on any other engine. And he has seen how kindness pays off--perhaps not in the short term, but always in the long run. Edward's wisdom comes from one who has seen and experienced too much, and has worked hard to receive the love that he has. The world may be cruel to humans and engines alike, but that's what makes Edward's choice to be kind all the more meaningful--his kindness is given freely and rewarded handsomely, in ways both big and small.

Edward reminds us of what it means to be at our best. And it is that which makes Edward stand out for so many of us, 40 years on, as the kind of person we want to be some day.

Happy birthday, Thomas the Tank Engine and Friends, and a very, very happy birthday to you, Edward <3 Dry rails, and good running!!

#ttte #ttte analysis #te writes trains #ttte edward #ttte henry #ttte james #ttte gordon

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